Nowhere To Hide
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do what I have to do. I'm a Victor and you are simply a bloodbath casualty." Welcome to the 40th Hunger Games!
1. Kick Ass Part One

_We are young,_  
_We are strong,_  
_We're not looking for where we belong,_

_We're not cool,  
We are free,  
And we're running with blood on our knees._

* * *

**Nowhere To Hide - 40th Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Bark Blaine.**

* * *

This is it. There's no time to fight it or go against it or even doubt my choice. I chose this idea and now, I have to live it down. I remember back when I first got this job, lucky enough to even get anywhere close to President Snow or even the Hunger Games. And yet, I have and now after all these years of waiting, I'm Head Gamemaker.

"He's ready for you, Bark," the male attendant says, gesturing his hand towards the door.

I nod him a thank you as I stand up, straighten out my suit and then motion towards the door, my file clutched to my stomach. The minute I'm in the door, the faint smell of roses catches my nose and makes it turn, seeing as I can still smell the sickly blood underneath.

"Bark, what have you got for me?"

His tone is broad, strong and definitely terrifying. The man is definitely a threat, and from that, I can tell why he's got to the position he's in. I move forward, staring at the chair as to whether I take my seat or not. It's a choice, but frankly, it's a hard one.

"Sit down," President Snow orders, and with the fear bubbling inside me, I take my seat swiftly. "What have you got for this Hunger Games then, your _first_ one?"

The way he says that last bit makes my stomach flip. My _first_ one and can easily be my _last_ one if it's not up to his standards. I place the file out neatly on his desk, opening it up and spreading the pictures along the fine, mahogany wood ever so carefully. The arena took so long to build because of how complicated it was, but thankfully, I'm happy with the result. I just hope he is. He stares at for a while, eyes fixated on my plan.

That's when I notice the sweat bead on my forehead, daring to drip. One mistake and everything is gone. Just like that.

"Explain it to me, Bark." he says once more, and almost too scared, I stand up and launch to the file, getting ready to tell him everything.

"This year, we thought it would be fun to mess around with the tributes, in honour of it being exactly 40 years since it began. It took some time, but the arena has been completed," I point to the first picture, where the Cornucopia and plates lie. "This is outside on a rocky terrain, the Cornucopia lying in a large clearing in the middle of a mountain, making it impossible to climb. This, of course, leaves the tributes with only one way of moving. The tunnels. Each tribute's plate will be stood in view of the Cornucopia, but behind them and in the middle of another plate, will be a tunnel. 12 tunnels. This tunnel, of course, links with the others and creates a maze."

He nods, clearing me to go on.

"The maze leads around the rocky exterior, even leading down into the Earth. This is dark and claustrophobic, almost."

"Almost?"

"You see, the mazes all connect and move around, meaning at any point, our tributes can meet each other and their possible fate. But down below, there is a hidden cavern room. This room, surprinsingly, is holding the arena's only fresh water source. A mineral spring. It's also happens to be large to hold a large fight, with more room."

"Sounds promising."

"Oh, it is," I respond, noticing the faint line of a smile on the man's face. "The tunnels will be pretty dark but have small lights. It's almost like a mine."

He nods again, giving me my cue to collect my things and remove myself from the room. However, as I reach the door, he speaks.

"Remember, Bark, this one is on your head. You've been warned."

His words crawl up my body, and in that instant, I'm dreading the years to come and the constant possibilities of disappointing the man whom everyone fears.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who submitted! I have some fantastic tributes, so, I'm super happy. :)**

******The blog, where you can see everything, is this - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ just take out the spaces.**

**May the odds be ever in your favour!**


	2. Kick Ass Part Two

_We are young,  
We are strong,  
We're not looking for where we belong,_

_We're not cool,  
We are free,  
And we're running with blood on our knees._

* * *

**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Nico Cashlin, 17 (_BeccaJoy_)

Female: Diamond Lacette, 16 (_blondebabe800_)

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Kaden Hallory, 18 (_June Bell_)

Female: Camila Norvic, 18 (_BeccaJoy_)

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Glitch Mayhew, 16 (_The Nanny Is About_)

Female: Battery Rosenthal, 15 (_The Nanny Is About_)

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Troy Reed, 14 (_MeredithEve_)

Female: Nerine Monroe, 17 (_charlywarlythgtvd_)

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Buzz Alloy, 13 (_MeredithEve_)

Female: Viola Grimm, 13 (_CorsomeeCorey_)

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Halston Salvador, 17 (_CorsomeeCorey_)

Female: Ryder Corvair, 15 (_chuckesleaze_)

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Tasi Merkava, 16 (_RockSolid_)

Female: Woods Davis, 15 (_A Half-Empty Glass_)

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Alex Applique, 12 (_Dommmm_)

Female: Denim Weavan, 17 (_Dark Sunshine Angel_)

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Rye Paramintt, 14 (_To-The-Water_)

Female: Veena Avery, 15 (_BeckyAmity19_)

**District Ten - Lifestock.**

Male: Everest Sawyer, 16 (_Moonlight Resonance_)

Female: Demetria Greene, 16 (_xxBeautiful Redemptionxx_)

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Crew Willow, 12 (_Aeroja_)

Female: Sorrel Springfield, 17 (_Saberott_)

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Branton Callahan, 18 (_ThexOdds_)

Female: Blaize Diano, 16 (_DitzyLightning_)

* * *

**Kick Ass by Mika.**

**Now, voting can commence.**

******The blog, where you can see everything, is this - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified on the blog, as well as their final position in the Games.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**30 Points -**

**25 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**15 Points -**

**10 Points -**

**5 Points -**

**Pick your 6 favourite tributes! None can be your own. You are more than welcome to get friends and everything to vote for your tribute, if you wish.**


	3. Safe & Sound

_Just close your eyes,  
The sun is going down,  
You'll be alright,  
No-one can hurt you now,  
Come morning light,  
You and I'll be safe and sound._

_Don't you dare look out your window darling,  
Everything's on fire,  
The war outside our doors keep raging on,  
Hold on to this lullaby,  
Even when the music's gone._

* * *

**Topaz Montford - District One Mentor.**

"Are you ready for another year?"

I turn, looking at String, the older man smirking at me with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"_Always_ am, String," I reply, turning back to the door that leads out of the Justice Building. "However, are_ you_ ready?"

He laughs at that. String Beaudeux, 38 years old, a Victor and still as immature as a child. "Oh Topaz, must you be so uptight? Live a little, it's reaping day and you're mentoring this year, you should be excited, surely?"

"Yes, watching the kids stampede up to the stage like it's the only important thing in the world, what _joy_," I drawl, looking at the attendant stood by the door. "Are we ready yet?"

He freezes for a moment, his knuckles that are wrapped around the handle turning blue.

"Don't be horrid, 'Paz, patience does nothing wrong in the world," String raises his eyebrows, smirking as he faces the door. Always loved the attention, no wonder why he so freely ran for the stage all those years ago. I didn't, I didn't _ever_ want to be reaped and then that stupid Quarter Quell came around, and for some reason, District One decided to vote me in. 23 had to die, just so I could walk away freely. "Besides, thought you weren't excited?"

I snap my head to face him, glaring, when the door opens.

The door lets the sunlight stream in as me and String walk out, smiling politely. I can see the mayor sat down with his wife, two empty seats next to him. As me and String motion over, I catch a glimpse of the escort this year, a woman with vibrant purple hair, sticking out the ends like a porcupine's spines would. As I take my seat, I zone out as the escort begins to babble on and the treaty begins, never really interested in it myself.

The next minute I know, String is nudging me, snapping me out of my world.

"What?" I spit.

"Look, she's starting the fun." String points as the escort skips on over to the male's reaping bowl, dipping her hand in. The minute her hand makes contact with that bit of paper, the crowd erupts. Kids from different enclosures dash for the stage. Some look as young as 12 and I grimace at the thought of mentoring a young child to their potential death. The escort looks taken aback as 2 kids, a boy and girl, run up the steps, almost knocking each other.

Our 2 volunteers.

"What are your names?" the escort shrills, grinning as she thrusts the microphone in front of the boy. He's well-built, reasonably tall and there's no doubt about it, his eyes are his best features. Icy blue, piercing and no doubt will have the Capitol swooning.

"Nico Cashlin." he replies, smiling at the crowd, eyelashes dancing over his brightened orbs.

"Wonderful," the escort smiles, until she shakes her head, realising she too got mesmerized by his enchanting eyes. She smiles her purple lipstick smile, strutting over to the female. "And you?" Something about her looks vaguely familiar and it isn't until she says her name, that my mind clicks.

The girl smiles softly, looking rather shy behind her brown hair, spilling over her shoulders.

"Diamond Lacette."

_Lacette_. A Victor's daughter, how ironic. My eyes flick to String, and instantly, I can see his eyes grow bigger.

And it's then I'm thankful that we agreed that I'd mentor the male tribute, because if she doesn't come home, String won't see morning.

* * *

**Liam Hallory - District Two Mentor.**

It's my first year as mentor. I only won 3 Games ago, but since then, they've kept me away from mentoring. District Two easily has the biggest pool of Victors at an amazing eight, and this year, they've decided it's my turn to try out, seeing as I'm the newbie to the bunch.

"You've got a _lot_ to learn, kid," Marcia says as we take our seats on the stage. "Mentoring isn't always easy."

"But surely when you've been trained, it is?" I reply, slightly confused as I sit down.

Instantly, Marcia jerks her head at me, glaring. "_Don't_ say that out loud. District Two knows we have trained tributes, but broadcasting it to the whole of Panem, don't be _so_ stupid and shut up."

I restrict at her words, moving back into my seat. The mayor sits on the other side of Marcia, but clearly, he pays no attention as he stares at the floor. By now, the routines the same. I should know, I lived it a short while ago. A kid gets reaped, a Career volunteers.

"I'm _not_ stupid, Marcia, otherwise I would have been slaughtered in the arena."

"It can still happen right now if you don't shut the hell up."

"Oh, that's funny, because you've been out of action for over 20 years now. You could be out of shape."

"I can still slice your throat before you can reply, so watch it, pretty boy, because I'm not afraid to do so."

I open my mouth, ready to retort to the woman whose Kill List during the 20th Hunger Games went into double figures, when the escort slides onto the stage, the enclosures beginning to fill. District Two kids never look sad when reaping comes. They all know that someone will volunteer, it's never happened before when someone doesn't.

Then, my heart skips a beat. A group of kids, decked out in their matching uniforms, come striding out and begin to mingle in the normal dressed kids. The Training Centre kids. One of those lucky kids will be my first ever kid at mentoring.

The treaty begins, everyone focused on it. Except me. My eyes stay focused on Marcia, wondering whether she is still capable of attacking. Up until today, I've never had a conversation with her. Once you become Victor, you go into the Training Centre and train the hopefuls. Marcia was never my mentor nor my district partner's, in fact, people said she didn't even mentor anymore because she saw it as a waste of her time. No potential in any of them.

"Welcome," the escort drawls, when the treaty stops. "Ladies first."

Her hand dips into the bowl, bringing forth a bit of paper. She opens her lips, ready to read, when a hand shoots up in the air of the 18 year olds enclosure.

"I volunteer as tribute."

"Lovely," the escort drawls once more as the girl extracts herself from the group, smile on her face. She strides up the steps confidently, eyes full of hope. Her brown hair swishes slightly, brown eyes glistening. "Your name?"

"Camila Norvic, Victor of the 40th Games."

"Of course," the escort rolls her eyes, pulling the microphone away and stepping over to the boy's bowl. This time, her hand doesn't even reach the papers as the boy shouts out.

And that's when my heart fully stops. That voice, it belongs to my brother. He plucks himself from the 18 year olds enclosure, ducking under the rope. He smiles at me, our eyes connecting. It takes everything for me not to tackle him to the ground for being an idiot. I've already won, he didn't have to enter. And I won't even be allowed to help because of the rules.

"Name?"

"Kaden Hallory."

Marcia turns to face me, smirking, realising that I will be forced to mentor the girl and she will get the pleasure of mentoring my brother. It's all worked out in her favour.

* * *

**Walden Soro - District Three Mentor.**

As the escort looks onto the treaty with such focus, I can feel the sleeve of my shirt being pulled. I turn, looking at Beatrice, the only other Victor to ever hail from District Three. It's amazing, because when you look at her, she doesn't seem the type to be here. To fit in. If anything, with her looks, blonde hair and tanned skin, she could be from District One.

"I'll take the girl this year," Beatrice softly smiles. "Seeing as you took her for the last 2 years.. I thought it'd be a nice change."

"Sure." I reply, not even wondering why she asks.

She doesn't even have to speak to get what she wants. Her looks does that themselves. That's why she won her Games on sponsors alone. She didn't need to fight or even survive, she was so captivating to the Capitol, they just kept sending in money. Money for food, essentials, medicine.. Everything. Ironically, everything was handed to Beatrice on a silver plate, including the victory.

"Good, thank you."

"Will it _really_ make a difference anyway? We'll both end up trying to save one over the other."

"Not necessarily," Beatrice frowns. "We _should_ take our role seriously this year."

I nod, about to reply when a name gets called out.

"Glitch Mayhew!"

The escort grims slightly as the boy approaches the stage. His brown fringe and glasses make him the usual District Three kid, raised on how to work anything technical. I can see the frown on the escort's face, already deciding that he isn't worthy to be a victor. To me, he seems perfectly fine.

Brains beat brawn anyday and Glitch is going to prove that point.

"And now, our female," the escort quickly smiles, hiding her disappointment. "Battery Rosenthal!"

When she pulls herself out of the 15 year olds enclosure, it's almost like she's an alien. Just like Beatrice, Battery doesn't seem to fit the District Three stereotype. She's reasonably pretty, for a girl her age. She strides to the steps, a shocked but neutral expression on her face. As she stands next to Glitch, you can tell their apparent difference. Polar opposites, no doubt.

And now I can see that she'll work well with Beatrice.

* * *

**Mags Maderia - District Four Mentor.**

"Mags?"

I turn to face Lagoon, a young and bright boy. Won the 34th Games under my teaching.

"Yes?"

"Don't you think you should sit down? Staring out the window won't make the treaty go any faster." Lagoon pesters, rubbing the seat next to him.

"I'm not a dog, Lagoon," I reply, moving over and taking the seat, the wind knocked out of me in that small journey. "I can do things _my_ own way."

"I just thought you could use a rest until we have to be outside."

"I know, I know."

He's always been thoughtful and kind. I never did understand why he would volunteer for such an horrendous thing. But he's right, like he always is. Once the treaty is done, I'm expected outside, collecting my tribute like a prize. That's the only good part about this whole thing, the fact they let me sit in here and wait until the blasted escort chooses the volunteers, so I get to avoid the treaty.

The door opens, a young girl popping her head in. "They're ready for you."

I stand up, instinctively grabbing a hold of Lagoon's hand, knowing it's stretched out for me already to balance myself out properly.

"We have enough Victors, they should let you have a rest once in a while."

"Oh, but I'm the best there is."

"That's not my point, Ma-"

"It helped bring you home, didn't it? Back when I mentored you."

Lagoon nods, realising that age and experience outclasses his youth each and every time. The door to the Justice Building opens, revealing the crowd of kids, waiting to jump to the stage in a heartbeat. And that heartbeat is what Snow wants. Lagoon escorts me to my seat, sitting down as he ruffles his shaggy blonde hair. By the time I've looked up, the escort has the male slip in her hand. Lagoon's tribute.

"Ca-"

"I volunteer!"

The whole crowd goes quiet, which intrigues Lagoon, who scans the area quicker than I can. A blonde haired boy, almost looking like a miniature version of Lagoon, steps from the 14 year olds pen. When he struts to the stage, I hear the whispers and talking. Faintly, but I hear them.

"What's your name sweetheart?"

"Troy Reed."

That gains another collective set of whispers, the escort only nodding and crossing for the female bowl. She repeats her actions, flipping the piece of paper over.

"Nerine Monroe!"

A petite girl with caramel hair slowly walks to the steps, her face rigid. I can tell she wasn't expecting this, in fact, she doesn't look the type to volunteer. She takes each step carefully and slowly, as if praying for someone to shout out and take her place.

But it doesn't happen. The moment the escort wraps her arm around her shoulder, she's a goner.

* * *

**Caspian Thistle - District Five Mentor.**

My first year in mentoring. Aster constantly looks at me, expecting me to faint or scream or something. And inside, I am. When I won last year, I didn't think about mentoring kids to their death. All I thought about was my own life and how badly I wanted to survive.

In all honesty, without Aster, I doubt I would have survived. My life was in his hands and he succeeded. Now, someone else's life in my hands? The thought makes me want to be sick.

"It'll be fine, Cas, I'll take the more complicated one and you can have the easier one."

His smile softens me a little, but surely the whole of Panem can see me squirming in my seat, desperate for the escort to forget about putting her hand into the bowl at all. I watch, with fearful eyes, as she reads the name of the girl.

"Viola Grimm!"

My eyes quickly scan the area, and that's when my heart stops. A small girl with impossible blonde hair steps out the crowd, moving to the steps, her face contorted with anger. I can tell she's fiesty, despite only being 13.

As she reaches the stage, the escort smiles out her, only receiving a scowl in response.

"How precious," the escort glares slightly, moving over to the boy's bowl, her eyes never leaving Viola. She pulls the paper open, only turning away from Viola's harrowing glare to read the name.

"Buzz Alloy!"

A scream could be heard from the 13 year olds pen, shocking everyone. My heart lurches even more, another young kid. What's worse, by the flowing tears and his already rhubarb coloured face, he won't last long. He doesn't even move, until some of the kids start to urge him forward. Each step he takes, he wails for his mom, only breaking my heart even more.

As he stands on the stage next to Viola, I can see him visible shaking, tears still streaming his face. Viola, on the other hand, has her arms crossed over her stomach, staring at Buzz with such disgust.

"Which one do you want?" Aster murmurs, leaning across the seat.

"Neither.."

* * *

**Polo Wittery - District Six Mentor.**

"Why do we have to have the same escort every year? I mean, it's a joke."

I turn my attention to the mayor, a plump man with thick-rimmed glasses, staring at me, his body leaning over the seat, invading my personal space.

"I have no idea," I reply, slightly freaked out by how close the man. "Same could be said about the mayor, though."

"Touche." he smirks, taking that as his cue to back away. Every year he does the same, try and make conversation. He should know by now I've never been one to talk or even acknowledge him before. I cross my arms on my lap, holding down my dress. The treaty has been on for ages, which annoyingly, I have to sit through on my own.

2 Victors since the Games started and 1 has already died. I'm now expected to look after 2 tributes, on my own, and the worst thing is, District Six isn't exactly the home to normal children. It's either kids of Morphling addicts or just general rejects.

I can't talk, seeing as I'm probably classed as one of those 'rejects', but I can't help it. We've never had much luck in passing the bloodbath. Last year, our female tribute was the first to die. Ran off the plate. I don't whether she wanted to do it or the rush got to her, but either way, the hovercraft had to make several stops to pick up every piece.

"Welcome everybody," the woman claps, moving over to the girls' bowl. She doesn't take even a second pause before scooping in and grabbing the first slip. She doesn't even bother to move around, not an inch, just the closest to her.

"Ryder Corvair!"

The girl pulls herself from the crowd, her jaw clenched. And once again, I'm right. Another reject of District Six. But weirdly enough, something about the girl as she walks up tells me that she won't back down without a fight.

Then, she spits at the escort's shoes as she takes her place. It's pretty shocking, but that just proves my point even more. She's a fighter, not an average reject. The escort shrills as she steps back, scared. No doubt worrying about the possible diseases. Never had to worry about that in the pristine Capitol.

"And the boy.." she says as she picks up the next slip from the boy's bowl, face slightly turned down by the saliva on her illuminous orange heels. "Halston Salvador!"

I scan the area, noticing the boy with a mohawk step out, emotionless. He doesn't even look fazed by his name being shout out. Stone cold, solemn and unresponsive.

But there's a weird aura around him as he stands next to Ryder, barely brushing against her. He seems allusive, tough even. I can't help but think that I've lucked out this year, two fighters. The boy begins to stare around, looking paranoid when his eyes land on Ryder. He glares, only slightly, stepping away from her carefully as if she's contracted a disease. But with that clenched jaw, I can tell he's going to fight.

District Six might have their third winner yet.

* * *

**Oakley Canneroy - District Seven Mentor.**

"They look good this year," I whisper to Jocelyn, sat next to me. Her eyes are fixated on the boy and girl chosen, of course, neither volunteered. We've never had some volunteers. Talented kids, sure, but never some so willing. "I think you should mentor the boy, he looks a lot of trouble."

Jocelyn's head snaps towards me, slightly glaring.

I then look back at them both. Tasi Merkava, the boy, is impossibly well-built from no doubt working with the lumber our district is famous for, dark hair tied up in a ponytail. The girl, Woods Davis, is a petite thing with short curly hair, but something about her tells me she can hold her own, despite the fact that she almost fainted there and then on stage, quickly being held up by Tasi, who swooped in.

She stepped back from him, but still allowed her shoulder to brush against his.

Then, Tasi moves. Whilst the escort parades them around, Tasi steps a tiny bit closer to Woods, almost protectively. He doesn't shake her hand or anything, but seeing how close he is, you can see he feels something for her. Maybe pity, as she's only 15, but definitely something. No-one is usually that friendly with their district partner.

It's the Games, after all, and allies can only be trusted for so long.

The escort claps a final time as she ushers Tasi and Woods into the Justice Building. As they pass me, I can the faint sign of a tattoo on Tasi's upper arm, a black bull. It intrigues me and Jocelyn, who speaks.

"I'll have Tasi, I know him personally."

"How so?"

"I know his adopted father, the owner of the lumber mill."

Then the tattoo makes sense. So do the extraordinary muscles. He's used to chopping wood likes it's no more than a simple pencil being snapped. Woods, on the other hand, doesn't look like she spends days on end playing with an axe. But it's rarity for a District Seven kid not to have weilded an axe or hatchet at some point in their life.

As they step into the building, Jocelyn raises, me following on instinct.

Before we enter, Jocelyn says a simple thing. Quiet and only for my ears.

"You can't mess up this year, Oak. No matter what, this year is more important than ever."

I don't know what she means by it, but the glint of determination in her eyes and the expression, tells me that she's serious. Deadly serious.

* * *

**Dorsey Marrow - District Eight Mentor.**

I sit back in the car, allowing my head to rest against the leather seat. Silk, on the other hand, seems too focused on the passing images of District Eight. I can tell what she's thinking. What she always thinks. Every year, she's forced to watch kids she gets to know, die. And that brings her back to her memory of her own Games.

"So, which of us would you like to mentor you?" I ask Denim Weavan, the female tribute. Her black hair is greasy and unkept, spilling in a ponytail over one shoulder. She looks at me and shrugs her shoulders.

"Does it matter?"

"Well it does on our behalf," I say in a calm voice, realising that Denim could be a handful. Maybe not the best of tributes for Silk. Alex Applique, on the other hand, is only a little boy, barely old enough to be of reaping age. "What about you?"

He too shrugs his shoulders, looking awkwardly down at his shoes and playing with his thumbs. He hasn't cried since being reaped, which surprises me, mainly because of his age. He just walked on up, looking as cute and innocent as ever. Denim, however, didn't seem to care much about it.

"Well, I say that Silk here should mentor Alex, seeing as she is also young."

This catches Silk's attention. She turns, softly smiles, straightens out her flowing dress and then looks back at the window as if she couldn't look anywhere else.

She hates this more than ever. Putting up a tribute's hope, when District Eight hasn't won in the last couple of years.

"That means it's you and me, Denim."

"Okay."

"Is there any quick questions you want to ask? I mean, it's unlikely that mentors even get to take the car journey with you to the train. Normally, we're forced to take another car and just wa-"

"I said okay."

I retreat, realising that Denim will never compromise. Something tells me she's accepted her fate, but her words remind me she's a fighter. And that's something I have to pray, seeing as she doesn't want help.

* * *

**Victory Kane - District Nine's Mentor.**

The door to the dining room opens, our escort walking in. A young man with impossible white hair and cream-coloured skin. Thankfully, compared to other districts, we get the quiet escort. He never really speaks, not even on the train. Just collects his food and heads off to his bedroom. Never once has he spoke to me or Wheat directly, or the tributes for that matter.

As he goes back out through the door, Wheat enters, our two tributes trailing behind him.

"There you are, beginning to think I'd lost you." I say as Wheat takes a seat next to me, allowing the tributes to sit in front of us.

"Can't get rid of us that quickly."

Rye Paramintt, the boy, is only 14. His soft, chocolate brown hair is short, slightly spiky at the front. He's not that large, in weight or height, but that doesn't mean anything. District Nine work in their fields, it'd be pretty surprising if he hasn't picked up some sort of weapon at some point. Veena Avery, on the other hand, looks like she's used to hard work. Her blonde hair spills nicely in front of her, curling slightly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I reply with a casual smile. The only thing I've learned from Wheat - never make the tributes feel awkward. They already have to face horrors in the arena, it'd be nice for them to feel relaxed, even slightly, before that stage. "Have you decided on mentors?"

"Yes," Rye replies with a soft and polite voice. "I let Veena choose and she wants to work with Wheat."

"Ah, so that means you and me, kiddo." I lightly laugh, seeing Rye sadly smile as he looks down at his plate of no food.

Veena stays pretty quiet, but smiles as her and Rye's eyes meet for a brief moment. He responds, which lifts my spirits. It's nice to have district partners being nice to each other. Only one can survive, but that doesn't mean you can at least sympathise with the same person in the same place from the same district.

"I was thinking we'd talk strategies and such after lunch." Wheat says, smiling as our dinner is served on our plates.

As the food hits my plate, I look over at Rye and Veena, both shocked by the amount being poured on their plates. And it's that, that reminds me of my time on the train, experiencing food that I've never seen or can pronounce.

And the pity overwhelms me.

* * *

**Buttercup Springton - District Ten Mentor.**

The entire train journey so far has been quiet. I've sat here in complete silence, making an effort to start a small conversation with either of Everest Sawyer or Demetria Greene, but I'm getting no response whatsoever.

Even Jederoe, our fellow mentor, is being unusually quiet to his fun-loving self.

I eat the soup quietly, when finally, I can't bear the silence any longer.

"Are either of you going to speak a word?"

Demetria instantly looks up, eyes connecting with mine. I can a tiny hint of a glare, clearly indicating that I might have pushed a button. But something about her also tells me she has a short fuse, no doubt getting annoyed over the tiniest of things.

"I mean, being quiet won't help anyone. It's good for the arena, but not here when you should be discussing strategies and tactics. Telling me what you are good and aren't good at, hel-"

I stop when a hand falls onto my knee. It's Jederoe, and whilst he doesn't look at me, I can tell what he's thinking. Being my mentor when I was in this position, he knew when to calm me down.

"All I'm saying is, we can help."

"Like you've helped the other kids over the past 16 years since District Ten have won?" Demetria spits, clenching her visible hand on the table into a fist. "I'd rather work that out of my own then take the risk, thank _you_ very much."

Through the whole ordeal, I can see Everest has kept to himself, still silently eating at a slow pace.

"Then you should mentor her, Jederoe, because she's too much like me and that won't end well."

He silently nods, mimicking Everest with the quiet-slow eating. I return to my food, noticing Demetria still staring at me with her large, narrowed eyes. She's a lot like me. That could come in handy when wanting to survive and ultimately win.

* * *

**Seeder Tax - District Eleven Mentor.**

"Everything will be fine," I reassure Banks, the only other mentor besides me, who is currently pacing the train compartment. It's hard to think that the kid in front of me is still the same kid I watched go into the arena. Then again, Banks has never been much of kid, considering his height and muscles that make him look far older. "They will both be fine."

"I just hate the way the escort swarms around them like bees to flowers," he replies. "Is it so hard to talk tactics and the important stuff to survive, rather than make-up and nice clothes?"

His anger is clearly apparent. He hated it when he was the tribute, and then, it was the same escort.

On cue, the door slides open, revealing our escort and her toffee-coloured hair shaped in a cone, the tributes closely behind, dressed neat as ever. Sorrel Springfield stands there with contorted annoyance, her dark hair going straight down her sides, skin tanned. Thankfully, she's Banks problem.

My tribute, on the other hand, stands there with a cheeky smile on his face. That's the beauty of little Crew Willow. No matter what the situation, he always finds something to smile out. He stands there, in a white shirt, with his short dark hair and face covered in freckles.

"They look fab-u-lous, no?" the escort exclaims, clapping her hands together.

Banks goes to say something, but I quickly restrain him by grabbing his arm, pulling him back.

"They look great," I smile. "Are you guys feeling okay?"

I say it more as 'guys', when my question is more indicated towards Crew. He seems _too_ chirpy, considering he is no doubt the underdog of the Games, a bit like the kids from Five.

Sorrel looks annoyed and steps out of the way, moving over to a seat and sitting down. Whilst Crew's smile only grows a little bit bigger.

"Do you think my mommy will like it?"

And it hits me. Crew hasn't fully understood what's going on. 12 years old, I doubt his parents ever let him watch the Games and never expected him to be reaped at such a young age. My heart pulls as I keep my eyes focused on Crew's grin, never turning down once.

"She will love it."

Crew jumps lightly on the spot, loosening his body in the white shirt and brown pants. He stops and walks past me and Banks, joining Sorrel at the table. The escort looks giddy with excitement as she too passes us. I want to follow, but my body feels numb. Poor Crew.

"He's so young." Banks whispers into my ear.

"So were you and _you_ won."

"But I was strong and big. He's.. He's such a small thing."

I close my eyes, hating reality and more importantly, Panem, for sending another innocent child to be slaughtered. "I know.."

* * *

**Arlo Bagshot - District Twelve Mentor.**

"Are you not going to help us at _all_?"

I hear the girl speak, but choose to ignore it. It's not that I don't want to help, I do, but sometimes an old man needs to think.

"Really? Not going to say _anything_ at all?"

She speaks again. I flick my eyes towards her. Blaize Diano, a bright redhead with a lot of sass. I can see her face is glossed with annoyance, slightly screwed up in corners and her hands balled up in fists. I might have a fighter for a change, rather than complete nothings like last year and the year before that and the before that, stemming down to me being the only Victor and winning over 36 Games ago.

That's 72 kids I've watched die. Each one more useless and whiny than the last.

As Blaize opens her mouth again, I cut her off, holding a finger in the air.

"Patience, Blaize, it won't harm you one bit."

From the corner of my eye, I can see the boy, Branton Callahan, looking at Blaize and biting back a smirk. He reminds me of me, back before the Games got hold of me. Blaize, on the other hand, looks horrified by my actions. I can see why she's angry and it's not just that I'm taking my time. It's because I allowed her sister, Ember, to die a few years back.

The Diano family never did have good luck around District Twelve.

"Patience?" Blaize looks furious. "Patience? Are you actually telling me to be patient about wanting to survive?" By now, her face has turned the same colour as her hair.

"Yes," I reply, holding my own. "The train is coming to a stop, then, you'll be swamped by people with cameras and microphones and all that useless Capitol garbage. When those doors open and you step out, don't speak. _Don't_ utter a word. Wait until we get inside, and then, we'll talk strategies."

"Why not here?" Branton quips in.

"Because, my dear boy, you've got to be patient."

Really, though, it's all a test. A test as to whether they've given up as quickly as the last bunch did. Blaize passes with flying colours, and I can see her being a fighter and maybe not dying on the first day. Branton, well, he could do the same.

But only time will tell.

The train comes to a sudden halt, flashes from cameras littering the windows, everyone trying to catch pictures of the newest sacrifices for the ever-growing power hungry, President Snow.

"Remember, do not speak a single word." I say to both Branton and Blaize as the doors slide open and the journey begins.

* * *

**Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift.**

******The blog, where you can see everything, is this - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified on the blog, as well as their final position in the Games. Alliances have been put up, also.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**I will remind you that these alliances can change when in the arena. Whilst your tribute might be working with someone at the beginning, during the course, they could change their minds after a conflict or whatever and move. Nothing is set in stone, these are just for now.**

**30 Points -**

**25 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**15 Points -**

**10 Points -**

**5 Points -**

**Pick your 6 favourite tributes! None can be your own. If you pick your own tribute, I'll put the points on someone else I see fit. You are more than welcome to get friends and everything to vote for your tribute, if you wish. Votes will only be accepted through a review. PM me it and I'll change it because I'm mean like that. Unless your reason is valid. You've been warned.**


	4. Fly

_Me, me, me against them,  
Me against enemies,  
Me against friends,  
Somehow they all seem to become one,_

_A sea full of sharks and they all see blood,  
They start coming and I start rising,  
Must be surprising, I'm just summising,  
Win, thrive, soar, higher, higher, higher,_

_More fire._

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

The silver spray paint is clinging to my body, shining under the lights of the Remake Centre. Every light fragment that hits my bare chest shines and shimmers, making me look like a walking gemstone.

"They're going to love you," my stylist, Valeria, says smiling. "A good-looking boy, topless and those eyes? Might as well just hand you the crown now!"

I smile back, although it's more of a false smile. I _know_ I'm good-looking, there's no need to remind me. But I feel for my district partner, Diamond. She might be Savoy Lacette's daughter, but there is no way she comes as _close_ to greatness as me. I'm trained, she's trained. I can woo the crowd, she prefers her solitude. And that's my advantage. The crowd.

"Here comes Diamond now, doesn't she look stunning?"

I turn, following Valeria's eyes. Diamond walks in with her stylist, eyes focused on the shining gems on her dress. She's extremely quiet. I mean, I haven't really bothered to make conversation, but even our mentors try and fail. Particularly String, who seems determined as ever to ensure Diamond's win.

He should give up before he makes a fool of himself.

Diamond stops near me, standing by my side as our stylists walk away a little, talking to each other quietly.

"You know, I don't blame you for constantly staring at me." I say, smirking but keeping my eyes away from Diamond's. It takes a minute for her to reply, though.

"You wish," Diamond responds coldly. "I doubt I'm much your type."

"I don't _have_ a type. If I did, I'd have to look in the mirror, seeing as that's the only person who comes close to looking as good as me. And don't even get me started on my skills."

"Someone's confident."

I lean closer, whispering into her ear. My breath tickling against her tanned skin. "Confidence has nothing to do with it, sweetie. It's called being right."

Diamond looks up at me, eyes shimmering underneath the light. "Don't underestimate me, pretty boy. Cause I promise, when the time comes, you'll suffer more than anyone else."

I smile at her words, realising there is more to Savoy's daughter then just her looks. But the same can be said about me. I'm _more_ than just a pretty face. Valeria and the other stylist walk back, ushering us up onto our chariot.

"I want you both to look confident. Don't show friendship, show how determined and cunning you both are."

"Works for me," Diamond responds quickly. Far too quickly. "I'd rather die than make a friendship with him."

My eyebrow raises, just as the Remake Centre's doors open and the ceremonies begin, Diamond standing quite a bit of distance away from me. Time to do what I do best. Charm the idiotic people into sponsoring me.

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

I stand up onto the chariot, my eyes focused on the boy and girl from District One. In all honesty, they are my only _real_ competition. In the arena and sponsors. Whilst District Two has had more Victors over the years compared to District One, they always seem to pull the most sponsors every year, mainly because of their stunning beauty. They use their looks to further themselves. We use our training to further ourselves.

And I plan to do both.

Kaden, my partner, is talking with his older brother, my mentor. It's ridiculous, because I already know that Liam will try anything to make sure Kaden returns. And whilst I allow a tiny part of myself to feel for them both, it stops there. I will return _no_ matter what, and to do that, Kaden will have to die.

"Girl."

I catch the voice of Marcia, Kaden's mentor, talking to me. I look at her, a part of me wishing that she was mentoring me instead. I don't even know her, seeing as she's one of the best the Training Centre had to offer and refused to train others. But I know she's the best and that's what I want.

"Yes, woman?"

"He's going to make sure Kaden comes home, no matter what, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course. And I _won't_ let that happen."

"Good," Marcia smiles sadistically. "Because I want nothing more than for that stupid boy to deserve what's coming to him."

"Liam or Kaden?"

"Does it matter?" Marcia smirks, stalking off away from me as Kaden stands up onto the chariot. He's dressed just like me, giant tunics spray painted in a mixture of colours. Some brown for dirt, red for brick, grey for stone and rubble.. With the size of Kaden, he could pass as a walking mountain.

"Are we doing the typical Alliance this year?" Kaden asks me quietly.

I nod, eyes trained on the pair from District Four, standing by their own chariot. "Obviously. Although, I can already see the weak links."

Although I'm staring at the pair, it's directed at the District Four girl. She doesn't look like a Career, and I highly doubt she's been trained. She'll be trouble, but nonetheless, the alliance has to be full and I'll bite my tongue in order for her to stay. She'll be easier enough to take out when the time comes. The only good part is that the boy makes up for her, the murderous little so-and-so.

As the doors open and District One are off, Kaden smiles.

"What are you smiling at?" I ask, just as the sunlight blinds me, the roaring of the crowd deafening my ears. All I can hear are the chants of names, the vibrant colours of the different Capitol people, cheering and screaming. I hear mine, Kaden, Nico and Diamond from District One.

"The Games have begun."

* * *

**Glitch Mayhew.**

All I can hear are screaming. Tons and tons of screaming. Diamond. Nico. Camila. Kaden. The Careers. None are for me, nor Battery. I can see why, though, by looking at us, we look like walking gadgets. Dressed in silver, colourful wires over our body, some loose, some connected.

There's nothing great about District Three. Considering we provide _all_ the gadgets and electronics for the Capitol, and yet, we're still treated low.

Battery smiles and waves, and it's then, I hear the faint calls of her name. She's responding, just like Beatrice, her mentor, told her. Play the crowd, that's the best for sponsors and survival, if you can't fight. Whereas Walden told me to put my brain to good use. And that's my plan. Quiet, let them underestimate me and then blow them all to bits.

"Smile, Glitch, even a little. I know you don't want to, but it could help you out and we need all the help we can get." Battery quietly says, although I can barely hear her over the roars.

"All the help we can get," I scoff, looking at an array of Capitol citizens. "That's an understatement and you know it."

Battery slightly frowns, looking back to her side and continuing her petite waving and soft smile.

The beginning of the parade begins to slow down, reaching the City Circle. Our chariot pulls up next to District Two, and instantly, I can feel the girl glaring at us like we're nothing more than a piece of meat. It's horrible to be District Three in the parade. Stuck between District Two and Four, both Careers, both usually volunteers and both ready to kill us within seconds of stepping off the plate.

As President Snow steps up to stand, the other chariots filing in after District Four. The two small kids from Five look like giant satellite dishes, the rough looking ones from District Six are smothered in silver and don't look much different to us. Seven are trees, like every year, and Eight wearing a mix and match of different colours, looking like walking thread pillows.

After that, they just get worse and worse. You can see why District One, Two and Four get the sponsors. They get the best stylists.

As I look back at Battery, I can see her smile has faded and hand lowered down. Her eyes are locked with the boy from District Four, a sadistic smile on his face as he stares at Battery, bloodlust in his eyes, glimmering.

"Look away," I urge Battery. "It'll only make it worse if you look back."

Battery responds, her eyes hitting the floor as the last of the chariots ride in. As I look up, I feel my hand get warm, Battery's small and pale hand sliding in mine, as an act of comfort.

My heart slightly lurches. I've known Battery, growing up in District Three. Everyone loved her. No matter where you came from or what group of kids you were friends with, you couldn't hate Battery Rosenthal. The girl who broke the mold. Broke the stereotype.

Forced to face the arena.

* * *

**Nerine Monroe.**

The doors to the Remake Centre close, the roar of the crowd silencing down to nothing. I move over to the edge of the chariot, taking hold of Lagoon's hand and stepping down. He's smiling, so is Mags, whose leaning against a chair nearby.

"That was great, Nerine, I think they like you."

"I hope so." I smile back at Lagoon as Troy jumps down, smirking.

"I already know the first person on my kill list," Troy interjects, crossing his arms. "District Three girl. She looked petrified. It's going to make the kill all the more fun."

Lagoon's eyebrows furrow, his smile turning up on one side. "You shouldn't kill for fun, Troy, but for survival."

"I will for survival, but why not enjoy it in the process? I didn't volunteer for no reason. I want to enjoy every single drop of blood that's spilt by my hands as I cave her fucking skull in." Troy smiles sadistically, walking away, Lagoon quickly following in.

The boy sends chills up my spine.

I stand there, watching Mags speak to the District Six mentor about her tributes. I smile, realising that Mags probably knows every single one of the mentors, maybe even friends with some of them. My eyes train to my dress, seeing the end turning into a mermaid's tail, bright blue shining under the Remake Centre's lights.

"You look really pretty in that dress."

My eyes flick upwards, noticing the little boy from District Eight smiling at me. He's only 12, but for some reason, looks even younger than that.

"Thank you," I softly smile. "You look _very_ handsome in your colours."

He smiles at the comment, which causes my heart to flutter. A poor little boy, so sweet and well-mannered. Forced to fight and will have to die if I want to go home to the people I love. But that makes me think of his possible family and my heart plummets. Brothers? Sisters? A broken-hearted mother?

Then, he disappears, quickly running back to his mentor. I look around, seeing the others. But to me, only three stand out. The other young children. District Five are represented by two small kids this year, whilst Eleven's male tribute is just as young, only slightly taller than the District Eight boy. All small, all vulnerable and all easy pray for my allies to take down.

"Don't underestimate him."

Troy's voice snaps me back around, popping out of nowhere, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I said," Troy repeats, annoyance laced in his voice. "Don't underestimate him. If you do, you're more stupid than you look."

Troy walks away, leaving me in my thoughts. Underestimate him? I think Troy might be more paranoid and messed up then he lets on, seeing as he's only a little boy.

* * *

**Viola Grimm.**

After shifting out of my ridiculous costume that my idiot of a stylist created, I feel to scream. Throughout the entire thing, Buzz has done nothing but cry and whine and sob and break down in tears. The only time he managed to actually compose himself was as he stepped up onto the chariot. It was then that the boy decided to at least play a part of the whole charade.

I just wish he'd do that all the time. He keeps crying for his mom, and whilst a small part of me feels sorry for the him, the rest just wants to slap him and tell that he isn't going home. That he's going to die in the arena and never see his family again.

But I bite my tongue and just watch as that useless Caspian tries to console him.

"It's okay, Buzz," Caspain attempts to calm him down. Buzz hasn't even bothered to shed himself of the stupid costume. "Everything will be fine."

That catches me. Everything will be fine? No it won't. It never is when it concerns the Games. _He_ should know that, he barely survived last year. I was at his reaping, I watched as Caspian, only 16 years old last year, fainted there and then in the enclosure and had to be _carried_ up by Peacekeepers. No-one thought he would survive. But he did, taking out the final tribute, the girl from District Seven, by smashing her skull in with a piece of brick.

He barely made it, and now, he's being a hypocrite by telling Buzz he's going to be okay. Neither of us will be, at least I've accepted that. But I'm going to try.

"Caspian," Aster urges the younger mentor to keep trying to stop his tears.

But each one bugs me just a little bit more than the last. 10 minutes in, and I can feel the pounding behind my eyes, Buzz's crying never slowing down once.

Then it gets too much.

"Oh will you just shut up already!" I holler at him. He looks at me, tears streaking his reddened face. But it does the trick. He shuts up. "About time, stupid cry baby."

"There's no need for that, Viol-"

"There's every need for it!" I can feel the anger boiling by now. Caspian tries to shut me down also, but it's too late. Like a firework, i've been set off. It's only a matter of time before I explode. I find myself pointing my finger at Buzz, shaking from the anger. "Listen here, we're young and from District Five. We aren't going to win, Buzz, we have no chance! Get over it and move on and just accept death for crying out loud!"

What I don't realise, is that it's hit me. I've accepted death. I'm _going_ to die.

Glassy tears stream down, but I can't see anything. I can't see them staring at me, because the minute I notice I'm crying, I'm slamming my bedroom door and cursing into the pillow.

* * *

**Halston Salvador.**

I don't like her. Not one bit. The way she comes across, her attitude, the complete aura.. It drives me insane. She sits there, looking smug, staring our mentor down. I've never known Ryder, but I know she works in the factories, just like me. The funny tanned skin from dirt and not by sun. The attitude. The minor cuts that litter her arm. Mechanic.

"So," Polo says, putting down her spoon. "What are you both good at?"

I look at my food, not wishing to speak. It's her fault I'm here. It's his fault I'm here. It's their fault I'm here. They all done it, all plotted and here I am, talking stategies about survival. Ryder looks at me, but I don't meet her gaze, knowing that I'll just glare at her.

"I can do damage with a knife. It's all I'm good at really, but I'm brilliant at it."

"That's good, Ryder, but maybe at training tomorrow, don't show it off. It could make you seem a threat."

Ryder nods at the response, looking back at the meal we've been served.

"Halston? What about you?"

I don't reply. I can't force my lips to move and make a noise whatsoever. All I can feel is the burning _hatred_ for Polo and Ryder. How she won the Games and gets to act all superior and mighty, just because she's the only Victor District Six has around anymore. Whereas Ryder, I can tell that she plans to stick to herself and do damage. They don't care for me one bit.

I'm just baggage.

"Halston?"

"I can kill," I spit, standing up and throwing my chair to the floor with a thud. Polo looks shocked, Ryder just looks annoyed all the damn time and the escort simply shrieks. "I can kill anyone."

That last part was for Ryder, who looks up at me for a split second, disgust swimming through her eyes. She knows I mean her. And from all this, it's clear that an alliance between the District Six's tributes is never going to happen.

I stomp from the room, my anger never leaving once. I'll murder her. I'll murder them _all_.

Think they can treat me as nothing but a pawn? Well guess again.

* * *

**Woods Davis.**

"Woods, wake up!"

The voice of the annoying escort snaps me from my dream world. Where I was running through the forest back in District Seven, the distinct smell of pine trees wavering through the air, soft soil crunching underneath my feet. Peace. But her voice brings me back to reality where that doesn't exist anymore.

No more messing around with Samson or Wyatt. No more throwing axes in the woods with my friends. No more Alyss discouraging me to stay around getting in trouble, something that I've always chased for some reason.

And now, trouble is being given to me on a plate and I don't want it.

I climb out of bed, shower, and force my training gear on that my stylist left me. I never did catch his name, but then, I don't care too much for it. He dressed me as a tree. A stupid tree. He is _not_ in my good books.

As I open the door and move into the dining room, I find Tasi already there, sitting down and having a discussion with his mentor Jocelyn. Oakley, on the other hand, seems eager to speak to me, rushing over.

"Tasi wants to be allies with you. Don't question it, just accept the help, okay?"

I nod, slightly shaken since I've only just woke up. Before I can reply, Oakley cuts me, continuing.

"You'll need all the help you can get and Tasi is the best you can do that isn't a Career. He's strong, kind, great with an axe and most of all, wants you."

"Wow, thanks Oakley, _way_ to make a girl feel appreciated."

"You know what I mean, Woods," Oakley's face grows serious, which worries me, because from what I've heard, he's never like that. "This isn't a game anymore, this is important in your survival. The best you can do is talk to Tasi and see about growing your alliance some. The bigger you are, the less you'll have to worry seeing as others won't want to attack a group. They want to pick off solo tributes. It's a lot safer."

I simply nod, again, unable to bite back against Oakley, despite how much he's annoying me. I'm not stupid, of course I was going to make an alliance. It's in rare circumstances do single people who play the Games on their own. They're usually the first to be hunted by the Careers.

Pulling myself from Oakley's clutch, I move over to the elevator, ignoring breakfast seeing as I'm a food snob and last night's dinner was just plain _awful_. Tasi quickly joins me as I wait for it to rise.

"So, we're allies?" I ask Tasi, noticing how his presence warms and comforts me.

"If you want," he smiles. "I was just thinking we could look out for each other."

"I'd like that," I respond, just as the doors open and we step in. "I'd like that a lot."

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

Denim eats her breakfast quietly and alone, opting to sit as far away from me as possible. Dorsey can see how she wants to be alone and leaves her at that, whereas Silk feels the need to smother me. Dorsey said she just hated the reapings, that was it, and after that, she'd go back to normal and fight for my survival.

I doubt she could fight for _my_ survival when she looks barely able to fight for herself.

As I watch Dorsey and Silk quietly discuss what they're going to do with me, seeing as Denim has already claimed that she plans on going alone or finding someone who would actually be helpful, rather than baggage, I think back to my competition.

The two from District One. He looks stupid, whereas I think she's playing the quiet game. District Two are no doubt assassins. But that could come in handy. The girl from District Four will be easy to charm. She doesn't seem the brightest lightbulb, and the way she reacted last night at the ceremonies towards me, I can tell she'll take my side.

Overall, the Careers could be easy. My only problem lies in the District Four boy. Troy. He constantly glares at me, which is worrying, seeing as no-one before has noticed. It's like he can see straight into my soul. I'll _definitely_ need to watch out for him.

"Alex, sweetheart?"

I quickly snap my thoughts away, switching and ready. I softly smile at Silk as she addresses me. "Yes?"

Cute as ever. That's my game. Play it cute and go forth. "Have you thought about alliances?"

Of course I have, you _stupid_ woman. Like I'd actually go in alone. That's suicide. "No, n-not really."

She frowns at this, looking at Dorsey with worry dripping in her looks. Then, almost out of view, Silk whispers into Dorsey's ear and points towards Denim.

"Denim?"

She looks up, her mangled appearance definitely not doing her any favours if she needs sponsors to survive. Not like the girl could survive. If appearance speaks for skill, then Denim has none whatsoever. "What?"

"Would you mind helping Alex out? Be his ally?"

Her face turns into a scowl. I can tell she doesn't. I'm fine with that, she was first on my kill list anyway, seeing how _rude_ she was to me last night. Not so much rude, but treat me as a child. It works in some cases, but others and especially when it's forced, irritates me. Denim chooses not to speak, pushing her chair away as she walks towards the elevator. Dorsey frowns, but nonetheless, ushers everyone up to go down into the training centre.

"Alex, try and find someone down there you can trust, okay?"

I nod sweetly. The first thing Silk has said that isn't complete stupidity.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

My eyes cast around the large room, noticing the array of weapons, all up for grabs to train with. Survival stations, some trainers with weapons waiting to spar, and most of all, a deathly looking woman stood in the middle, hands on her hips. As we close in, I quickly scan the room of tributes. Everyone is here except the pair from Eight, who could be late. Then I realise that the redhead from Twelve isn't here and neither is her partner.

"Welcome!" the woman shouts in a broad tone. "I'm Artemis, head trainer."

I soon zone out as she explains the rules, but I understand enough. No fighting with other tributes. Only with trainers. Only four at a station at a time. Always ask for help on stuff I don't know. Teaching us how to die, basically. They throw us in here, expect us to train and then get slaughtered only a few minutes after the gong.

_You don't stand a chance. Face it, you're useless._

That voice. It whispers in my mind, haunting me. Without even noticing, Veena wraps her hand into mine, running her thumb along my palm. I must have been shaking again. It always happen when _he_ speaks.

"Now go!"

With that word, the tributes begin to scatter to different places. The typical Career alliance, containing the tributes from One, Two and Four, all meet up in a circle, no doubt discussing plans and strategies already. The pair from Six instantly split from each other, moving to opposite sides of the large room.

"Since we're allies, what do you want to do?"

_Kill you, that way, it's one step closer to going home._

I push that thought away as quick as it came. She's a girl and I'd never dream of hurting a girl in my life. Yet, _he_ would do anything, because _he_ doesn't have a conscience.

"You're the lady," I smile. "You can choose."

"How about some survival training? It could come in handy."

"Sure," I respond, allowing Veena to tug me on over to the first station she sees: fire making. I stand there, watching as she listens to the instructor, when my eyes catch something. The pair from Ten are walking over. The girl determined, the boy looking like a follower. But something about him intrigues me. "Veena, we have company."

* * *

**Everest Sawyer.**

Buttercup and Jederoe were extremely keen on me and Demetria being allies, so naturally, we stick together in the room. I don't really know Demetria all that well, but I know enough to consider her helpful.

"I say we check out the pair from Nine. They look like they could be good in the arena, besides, they don't look that much of a threat." Demetria says as she starts walking on over, not even waiting for my answer. Then, I find myself reluctantly following like some lost puppy.

As we approach, the boy notices and as I watch his lips move, his partner jumps up, her blonde hair flying around by the sudden movement. Neither make a move or smile. They stay cautious, near each other.

"Hi," Demetria speaks, offering her hand out to the girl. "I'm Demetria, District Ten. This is my district partner, Everest."

The girl takes Dem's hand and shakes it, a small smile peering across her porcelain skin. "Veena, this is Rye. District Nine."

Rye looks up from the ground and our eyes meet. He looks conflicted and for some reason, I can sympathise and relate with that. He looks mentally fragile but physically strong. A lot like me, no doubt, from other's views. I'm strong, from working in the farmland, but my mind isn't all that great anymore. As Demetria and Veena get to talking and using the fire making station together, I move on over to Rye.

"The girls hit it off well, huh?" I say lightly, hoping to make the conversation a bit bouncy, despite the dark atmosphere smothering it.

"That's cause Veena is really nice and Demetria seems nice enough."

"What about me?"

"You seem nice."

"I get the feeling you think a lot of things are nice."

Rye sadly smiles, looking down at the girls busy working on their fire. "You don't want to know what I'm thinking, honestly."

I go to speak, when I notice Rye's eyes squinting, his hands quickly rubbing at them. At first, I think he's going to cry. But when he moves them away, it's like I can see the throbbing on his forehead.

"Migraine?"

Rye nods, looking slightly puzzled as to how I knew what was going on. He goes to ask me, when I carry on.

"I used to get them all the time working about in the farm with Trinity and the sunlight constantly in our eyes," I lightly chortle. "Best thing to do, drink orange juice. I can't explain it, but it helps a_ lot_."

"Thanks." Rye smiles, and then, I realise that we have more in common than just through first glances.

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

The doors open quickly, revealing the pairs from Eight and Twelve, both incredibly late. I can tell by the pissed off look that the head trainer gives that she isn't happy. I turn back to the station, deciding my best bet is to show those Careers that I'm not to be messed with.

"Do you have a scythe?" I ask the trainer, who looks puzzled at my request.

"A scythe? As in, the grim reaper kind?"

"No, as in the kind you would use in District Eleven."

He stops and thinks for a moment, bringing his finger to his lip as he concentrates. Then, he decides he does have one of them, pulling it forth underneath the counter.

"We haven't been requested for a scythe for a few years now."

"Five, to be exact."

"How do you know?"

"Psychic." I reply bitterly, stalking towards the dummies with it. I pull it back and swing it down at the white object's stomach, leaving a reasonable chunk missing. Not big enough. I smirk. Oh, how Pickney would rip me to shreds verbally from it.

But as I slash away, I can't help but think of Pickney. How, five years ago, she was in this same room as me. How she walked up to the man and asked for a scythe, a weapon that both me and her could use before we could walk. And yet, she still fell at the Games. The same year that awful man from District Four won. The same man mentoring the little psycho this year. When I saw him during the ceremonies, it took every ounce of my body not to lunge at him and attack him. Hurt him for taking Pickney's life. Not even letting her get past the bloodbath.

During my haze, I snap back, realising that I've slashed through all the dummies on show. A slow clap causes me to jerk my head around.

The girl from Eight stands there, looking impressed by my actions.

"Quite the anger, I'm impressed."

"I don't need _you_ to be impressed," I retort icy. "I need you to _fear_ me and stay _away_ from me. Realise I'm a threat."

"But why be a threat when we can be allies?"

I raise my eyebrow as she walks on over to the man, requesting a spear. He pulls it out and hands it to her, and in seconds, she throws it and it lands in the dummy's head. Not perfect, but not the worse I've seen from others this year.

I'm impressed. Such aim and she's not a Career, just a simple District Eight teenager. She looks me with such confidence, I feel like she could be useful.

"Sorrel. District Eleven."

"Denim. Eight."

She's good, but I'm better. She's useful to me _now_, but also disposable.

* * *

**Blaize Diano.**

Stupid Arlo. Stupid Branton. Stupid Games.

That's all the crosses my mind as I walk away from the head trainer, completely annoyed beyond belief. I wanted to talk strategies, but Arlo thinks it's a good idea to sleep in way past what she should and Branton thinks it's absolutely hilarious to hold my door closed, so I can't open it, like he's nothing more than a child.

I cross the room, noticing Branton has gone on his way to making friends. He's talking to the girl from Seven, apparently getting chatty. Her partner, however, doesn't seem _too_ thrilled as he watches her from the target practice area.

For a second, I debate on where to go. Mingle and ally with who. The Careers are out of the question. Both from Two with the boys from One and Four are currently destroying every single object in sight, and strangely enough, have a small audience of the pair from Five. That'll give them nightmares. The boy from Three is at the knot tying station, and next to the station is the edible plants, occupied by the boy from Eleven and the girl from Three.

I could try any of those, but frankly, if I could grab a sword in that Cornucopia, I could finish the whole Games without even needing survival skills. Maybe they should try that instead of learning pointless stuff. Fight and win it a _whole_ lot quicker.

Nets? Nope, occupied by the girl from Four, and even though she doesn't look like a Career, she's guaranteed in their alliance. So she's out of the question. There is no-one decent enough. The ones who look like they can fight only make them a threat. The ones that don't are just a lost cause.

Maybe I should try hacking into some dummies with the girls from Eight and Eleven, but neither of them looking willing to ally with anyone else. The pairs from Nine and Ten are out of the question, mainly because I doubt they could get far with making fires and that says a _lot_ about them.

I do a quick head count, adding the pair from Six on different sides of the room. The tribute from Eight is missing, which doesn't surprise me. Probably scared and avoided training so he wouldn't have to see the many sadistic ways in which the Careers will kill him.

"Hey there," Branton says, jumping in my view with a smirk. "I saw you from over there and just had to ask.. Do you come here often?"

Before he can register it, my fist is flying into his upper arm, and surprisingly, he staggers back a little.

"I'm wounded, Blaize," Branton laughs it off, rubbing his recently punched arm. He's speaking in a baby voice. Something that suits him. "I thought we had a connection."

"Your wit and lack of maturity won't help you."

"Must you be so uptight?"

"I think you aren't uptight enough, Bran," I bite back. "This isn't the time for games anymore."

"Then they oughta think about taking the Games part out of the Hunger Games." Branton laughs, finishing it with his charming smile and passing me, requesting a dagger from the man behind the counter.

"You should take this seriously!" I call out to Branton as he walks over to a dummy, knife in hand. He turns, extending his arms out and smiling.

"Live a little, Blaize," he calls back. "There's not much living left and I plan to try and enjoy it before my cannon sounds!"

His words strike me, because deep down, I know he's right. There isn't much longer until the possibility of me dying becomes reality.

* * *

**Fly by Nicki Minaj ft. Rihanna.**

**The blog, where you can check out things out, is this - nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ just take out the spaces. **

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	5. Just A Game

_Take my hand and my heart races,  
Flames illuminate our faces,  
And we're on fire.  
Blow a kiss to the crowd,  
They're our only hope now._

_And now I know my place,  
And now I know my place,  
We're all just pieces in their games._

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

"So how much do you know?"

I place my spoon back in it's bowl and look up, using my hand to pull back my hair. String looks at me with such intensity, I can tell most of it's fear. Doesn't want to upset my daddy. I guess that's the beauty of it all. Being Savoy's daughter, I admit, I get _special_ treatment. String will bend over backwards to pull me sponsors. The best part of it all?

It pushes me _that_ much farther in front of Nico.

He _thinks_ he can win, which is cute. But hasn't he realised that luck just isn't on his side? He should have waited until next year, when his district partner wasn't a Victor's daughter, or should I say, thee Victor's daughter. Sure, District One has pulled in a reasonable amount, only a few behind Two. But out of the 6 we do have, my daddy's the most famous. His Games last just over a day. A day.

A new record and it wasn't even the first few Games where the idiots just kept getting blown up because they didn't realise there was a timer.

Him and the Careers slayed half of the tributes in the bloodbath. Taking it from 24 down to 13. Then, they went hunting. 8 left, and 6 of those were the Careers, including him. But my daddy was smart. That night, it went down to just 3. He slit his allies' throats in their sleep. The last two were easier. A boy from District Ten with a broken leg gained from the bloodbath and the girl from District Five, bleeding heavily from a wound.

Easy pickings.

"Well?"

String's voice snaps me back to reality. "Pardon?"

"I said, how much do you know? Alliances becoming obvious?"

I shrug. I've not really paid much notice. All I've been doing is keeping from my allies and training my combat skills. "The Careers, obviously, but it looks varied at the moment."

"How so?"

I don't know. Does he honestly expect me to care for the others? Alliances or no alliances. They're all goners and _I'm_ the Victor. That's the way it was written when their names were reaped. String looks up, but I only shrug again. I'm not in the mood to talk, anyway. Tomorrow is when I get to show my skills to the Gamemakers and right now, I _need_ to focus on my last day of training. Focus on my tactics, my plan and more importantly, my enemies.

Soon, the door swings up, revealing Topaz and Nico.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?" Nico calls at me as he stands at the elevator. I stand up, push my chair back in and walk over. He stares at me, like a lot of people have been doing lately. The elevator hisses as it opens, me and Nico stepping inside in unison. Just as the door closes, I finally respond.

"Say that again and I'll rip your tongue out with my _bare_ hand."

* * *

**Kaden Hallory.**

As the door slides up to the training centre, I find that me and Camila are one of the first groups here. Besides us, there's District One, District Five and District Twelve, the latter no doubt rushing down here as quick as possible. Surprisingly, there's no trainer just yet.

"Well good morning," Nico sarcastically smiles as me and Camila walk up to him. I can tell Diamond's _already_ annoyed with his arrogance. "And did you both sleep _swell_ last night?"

Camila looks at me with her eyebrow raised, before I turn to respond.

"It was great thanks. Had a nice dream about slicing your throat open with a piece of rock."

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of their cage this morning," Nico rolls his eyes. "Where's the babies?"

I know he's talking about Four. Troy's a psychopath, despite his age. Nerine looks too weak and fragile to even lift a trident she says she can throw so easily. They are the babies, and like good people, we'll babysit them. Until we're bored and then they'll die.

"Well, I presume Nerine is no doubt dreading coming down since she's useless. And Troy? Probably strangling an avox as we speak."

Diamond smirks, walking away from us and heading back to the same spot she's been in for the entire training sessions. Combat. Nico soon nods as he walks off to more sword training, no doubt. It's like he wants to try and prove he's strong enough to be the leader. But that's me, without a doubt, I won't take orders from no-one else.

"Think we can take them out?" Camila whispers once the pair are out of hearing.

"Of course," I scoff. "We can kill them all. Nico is _far_ too arrogant, Diamond thinks she has this in the bag, Troy is just a murderous little _shit_ who I'm more than happy to knock down and Nerine is just plain useless and, crossing my fingers, will die in the bloodbath."

Camila bites her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. "That's true. Then, it'll be between you and me."

I turn to face her, at the same time she does to me. "That's fine by me. You wouldn't take me out before that, would you Cam?"

"Of course not Kay," Camila smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. "But you will die."

"Not before you're dead first."

"I'll hold you to it."

We're so close, I can practically feel her breath pouring out her mouth like fog rolling over a mountain. I want to push her against a wall and kiss her, and at the same time, ram my axe into her chest. She doesn't have this at all. The minute I volunteered, I could hear President Snow lining up the speech to congratulate me on my win.

But she can stay around for now. She might come in handy, especially taking out our pathetic alliance. But once that's over, all I'll hear is the sweet sound of her cannon firing.

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

The elevator hums as it slides down, the atmosphere quiet. Glitch hasn't said much. Nothing at all, really. He doesn't really speak to anyone besides Walden, and then, it's quiet and barely full sentences. I would think it's tactics, but at the same time, maybe it's a strategy. I try to put my eyes anywhere else, but each time I do, it falls back on his wrist.

His left hand is playing with the ring on his right hand. I don't know what it is, but it looks like wires. That makes sense, District Three and all. Glitch is the typical District Three boy, which is good, because that means brains. But is bad, cause that means no sponsors whatsoever. My heart pulls a little. He'll do _whatever_ he can to go home, whereas me, I'm to pull in the sponsors like Beatrice advised me to and just cross my fingers it works.

I'll get sponsors and he won't.

"Where did you get it from?"

My mouth makes words before I can even process it all. Glitch looks up, eyebrows furrowed, curious.

"Why?"

"It looks really pretty, that's all."

"Hinge.." Glitch responds. I can see the sadness in his eyes, and instantly, I can tell it's his girlfriend back in Distritch Three. "She gave it to me just after I got reaped.. She wanted me to remember her when I was in the arena."

"She sounds like an amazing girl."

"She is," Glitch softly smiles. "What's your token?"

My whole body stops. I don't know what to say to that. I never _did_ bother collecting a token, mainly because it just didn't cross my mind that I would ever be reaped. Nobody gave me anything, but I didn't have anything worth dying with. I snap back when I see Glitch tugging on a button on his shirt.

"What are you doing?"

One last yank and it's free. He smiles as he opens my hand, places it inside and wraps his hand over mine, closing it. "I presume you don't have one, seeing from your reaction. Now, you do. But it's from me, so I'm sorry, it's not _that_ special."

He laughs, but he doesn't even know how important that it is to me. His kindness.

I swoop over and kiss him on the cheek, smiling when I notice his cheeks turning a vivid pink. I don't say anything, though, and Glitch just smiles and looks at the door. I never knew him before this, and now, I wish I did. Because once that gong sounds, he's my enemy.

And if I want to go home, he has to die, and surprisingly, the more I learn about Glitch, the more I don't want him too.

* * *

**Troy Reed.**

I turn to notice the elevator doors open, the weaklings from Three walking out, giddy looks on their faces. Can't wait to be killed, clearly. The boy walks away, leaving the girl. If that's how it's going to be in the arena, she might as well _walk_ off her plate. Or better yet, into my spear.

She looks around, and as she finds me, I can't help but smirk. She should be worried. She's my first target and I plan for her death to be the highlight of the whole Games. Long, _torturous_ and bloody. She'll be screaming for hours on end, and as long as I can help it, I'll make sure that I can prolong the cannon for as long as possible, just so the idiot suffers.

I can see the fear in her eyes, even as she looks away and moves to the other side of the room, towards the stations occupied by the pair from Seven and the elf from Eleven, obviously stalking them.

They won't protect you. Killing the little one will be like slaughtering a helpless animal, something I've done my whole life and well adapted at. The girl _might_ be trouble, but not because she looks tough, cause she's _definitely_ not. But he will go out of his way to protect her. And as much of a hopeless idiot he looks, I bet he can throw axes pretty damn well. That makes it slightly tricky, but I like challenges.

"Thinking of your kills again?" Kaden asks as he stalks over. The minute the alliance is over, he's one of the first I'm going to kill, right behind my pathetic district partner.

"Of course. Just imagining how fun it's just to be to pierce a spear through District Three's neck."

Kaden crosses his arms, looking amused. What's so funny? It's like he _doubts_ me.

"I'm sure you'll have tons of fun. Just remember, don't slow us down because you like to play with your toys _too_ much."

Toys? He treats me like a little kid. It's been years since I've been that. Come to think of it, I've never been a kid. When you're born and your parents hate you, it makes you see the world better. A world where killing is the only enjoyment I can find. Where your parents cut your wrists and pray you die, cause you're a menace to the world.

Oh how proud they must be.

Kaden smirks, which annoys me even more. The whole alliance is stupid, come to think of it. The only reason I'm choosing to stay is so I can pick off the weaker and more pointless people that have no chance in this. Then, I can finally enjoy myself and hunt down the real competition. Kaden. Nico. Camila. Diamond. Nerine. They'll be the best and most entertaining to kill.

And just so it entertains the people back at home, I'll make sure to kill each one a little bit different. Keep the Capitol on the edge of their feet. Make every single one of them suffer.

"Blondie, come over here and actually practice rather than just staring into space."

Nico. How I fucking hate him. Just after Nerine and Kaden. They're the worst. Diamond is quiet, but I can see she's stupid. Easy kill. Camila is probably the only one I semi-like, and even then, the thought of killing her makes my blood warm and excites me.

I was _born_ for this. I know I was, it will be like taking candy from a bunch of oversized, idiotic and downright stupid tributes. These Games will be the best that the President and Panem have ever seen. I'll make sure of it.

* * *

**Buzz Alloy.**

"Stop being a baby and try it!" Viola hisses into my ear.

I can't. I can't do it. I need my mommy. If _she_ was here, she'd tell Viola to stop being a bully and leave me alone. She'd protect me so I wouldn't have to worry about her being a meanie.

"Buzz!"

I can feel the tears glossing my eyes. I open them, long enough to notice Viola has stomped over, only a few centimetres from my face. Her face is red, from anger no doubt, but that doesn't help me. The tears begin to stream and all I want to do is cry for my mom. My parents are rich enough, _why_ haven't they saved me? Are they _punishing_ me? They could have payed President Snow into not sending me in her.

Then they could have payed for Viola to be killed because she's being so mean. She yanks the small blade from my hand, huffing as she does.

"This is why you are going to die and I will just leave you. You're useless, you really are."

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate for the tears to stop. But all I can see is mommy and daddy. Playing in the backyard with my kite on the windy days that District Five has. Kissing daddy on the cheek as he goes off to work, to earn us money. I hear her footsteps walking away. She's going away to somewhere far, hopefully.

"Buzz!"

Then I'm disappointed.

I open my eyes to see Viola ramming the blade into the dummy's lower chest, seeing as she's too short to reach higher up. It doesn't go in far, and instantly, it drops, a screech echoing out as metal collides with stone.

"You do it like this, got it?" Viola shouts at me. I can only picture someone doing that to her and me laughing in her face. "You have to do as I say!"

My eyes tighten again. I can't do this.

I just want my mommy and my home and my family.

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

The dagger plunges into the dummy's chest, just where the heart should be. I smile, realising that this is going to be _easy_, as long as I can get up close and personal with them before they realise I'm there at all. Sneaking? That's my best bet. Stabbing and slicing throats. It would be so easy and push me further into winning. To go home to my brothers and the smell of gasoline and fuel that lingers in the District Six air.

I need to.

And I'll do anything to get back there. That's why I'm doing this solo. Allies would slow me down, and then, I'll have the awful task of killing them off, taking into account if someone else doesn't do it for me.

I look around as I plunge the knife, going in deeper this time. Halston is quite a distance away, but I can see him eyeing me out the corner of his eye. He hates him. I can tell, but thankfully, I don't _care_ much for him. 2 years older? That makes _no_ difference. When he's not looking, a knife ever so similar to this will be sliding into his gut before he even realises it.

Then he'll realise _not_ to mess with me at all. Because that's dangerous business. Then, it gets interesting.

I smirk, seeing the District Four girl watching me carefully if not very obvious. I can't help but feel I've possible intimidated her. Which is good, because it's become obvious that she's the weakest of the Careers and that means she'll either be up for grabs for the rest of us to try and kill, or, they'll do it for us.

But right now, that and the District Five pair arguing in the background are the least of my problems. It's him I _want_. Halston. And despite killing him would mean going back to District Six a traitor, it'll be worth it.

As I stab the dummy again, I see the assasin from Two staring at me. Her hair tied up, menacing eyes focused on my every move.

Let's give her a show then.

I swoop the blade in, just one more time for good luck, only pushing it in further and deeper than last. Mess with me will be the worst decision of your pathetic life, Two. Just remember that.

* * *

**Tasi Merkava.**

The axe feels at home in my hand. I turn to smile at Woods, only finding her in a discussion with the girl from Three. It's better than talking to the boy from Twelve, but only because he's a bigger threat then her. I need to protect her, and to do that, Woods at least _needs_ to talk to people who I can get trapped in a snare and then walk away, knowing that they won't survive. The smaller, the better and definitely more easier.

"Hey Tasi," Woods calls, smiling. I walk over, noticing the girl smiling also. "This is Battery. She's decided to join our little alliance."

"Yeah? What can you do District Three?"

"I make nets and such. Not great, but it could be helpful."

You'd think that's useless. But for us, it works. I don't plan on letting Woods kill at all and I personally can't do it myself. So combining mine and Battery's net making skills, we could create pitfalls, killing off the competition without _having_ to watch it. It works perfectly.

"That's good enough for me."

Her smile gets bigger and as Woods laughs, I can't help but feel we're an oddball alliance. District Seven, famous for their axes, working with District Three, famous for their brains. It's not supposed to work, and yet, it just might.

"So what_ is_ the plan?" Woods says.

Battery smiles and points to the little boy from Eleven, watching us from the station over. "He's been following me since training begun. I don't think he has anyone."

I look at him. Crew, I remember him, just because when the reapings came, he didn't flinch once like the boy from Five did. He smiled and walked up to the stage like it was nothing. I _have_ to respect that, even if he could be in denial.

"Yeah, his district partner is going with the girl from Eight." Battery confirms.

Woods nods, stepping out the semi-circle we had made to address him.

"Hey, Crew, is it?"

"Yeah!" Crew responds with a giant grin.

"Well hi there," Woods smiles sweetly, getting to her knees as me and Battery step behind her. "Did you wanna join our alliance, sweetheart?"

Crew nods his head so fast, I'm not surprised that it doesn't fall off. But then I can't fight back a smile. Crew opens his arms and runs at Woods with such speed, he almost knocks her over. I can't hear it, but I can see his mouth moving, whispering into Woods ear. He's saying thank you.

* * *

**Denim Weavan.**

I watch as Sorrel hacks away at more dummies placed by the trainers. Each swoop lets out a small, whistling noise and then a thud, metal colliding with the plastic. She's definitely a lot tougher than I assumed she would be. But I guess you can't underestimate anyone. One, Two and Four are usually trained and deadly. Three is weak, but if the arena works for them and the kids know their technology, then it could be trouble.

After that, the rest of us are lost causes. Except for Seven, maybe, but only because they play with axes instead of rattles.

In District Eight, you don't get that. Needles, making clothing and textile materials. Really, how can that help _anyone_ out?

I'm just thankful that I have naturally good aim, otherwise, I'd be at a big disadvantage like the others.

"Besides spears, what else can you throw?" Sorrel asks, pulling her scythe from the dummy.

"Anything, really, but I'd prefer a spear or at least a knife. It's unethical, I know, but you with being able to battle up close and me being the sniper, we could take them out easily."

By that, I mean you, Sorrel. Our alliance is merely strategic. I doubt she likes me and I guess I don't like her. It's the Games, the least friends I have, the easier it will be to let them die so I can go home. Not that there is any point with an overweight, demonic mother, no friends and definitely no family all waiting.

But my survival means _everything_. And sadly, once the numbers lower, we'll have to part ways. And quite literally, I'll stab her in the back.

"I suppose you're right." Sorrel nods.

I don't choose to reply, simply because it's better this way. The less communication, the less I might actually like her and the easier it will be to break the alliance when I see fit. Plus, I've just never been the social type. The more I talk, the more I give away and the more weaknesses my competition and Sorrel can find in me, and then, use against me.

It works for my advantage at the end of the day. I stop and watch Sorrel slam the scythe back into the dummy. She smirks as she pulls it back out, and then, I realise it might be tricky to kill her.

"So what do you think we should expect this year?"

"You mean the arena?"

"Yeah, I mean, do you reckon it'll be nature, a Gamemakers' playground, what? Banks said the weapons and stuff are a good hint as to what to expect."

I nod again, quickly scanning the stations I never bothered to look at. Survival and fighting. Just completely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"Massacre."

Sorrel turns to look at me, confused. But I get it. Weapons and survival. They do this most years, and when they do, it's usually the most brutal of Games. By the majority of survival stations compared to weapons makes it clear. You need survival skills because the arena _isn't_ going to provide anything, it's an empty shell, full of possible carnage.

* * *

**Veena Avery.**

The rabbit goes _under_ the hole.. I finish tying up my latest knot, much to the pleasure of the attendant behind the counter. He smiles, which makes me think that not many people come here. But I think it could be useful. Nobody knows about the arena, and as much as I would rather just go home and back into my fields, I can't. I have to play their game. And this is the best I got.

I glance over at Demetria, Rye and Everest, all of which have joined me. Since pairing up, we've never been apart. Dem thinks it's a good idea to work together, show the others of an already strong alliance forming. I agree, plus, making friends is always nice.

"I still don't get it." Everest complains, failing.

I bite on my bottom lip, attempting not to laugh and Dem, whose beside me, decides to smirk and not help out either. But Rye doesn't. He places his down gently, leans over and begins to weave the rope through a series of knots before it's perfect. I guess it's common knowledge back in District Nine. You learn these things at school and just _hope_ that it will help you out in the fields.

Now that I think of it, I never did know Rye. We went to the same school, I saw him around and I knew his family pretty well, but he always kept to himself really. Didn't mingle with others. Which doesn't seem a problem, seeing as him and Everest seem a lot closer than me and Rye are. It's strange, but I guess that got a_ lot_ more in common.

"There you go," Rye softly smiles at the ground, going back to his knot. "It's easy."

Everest smiles, but after trying again, sulks and walks off, wanting to get some fighting practice in. Soon, Rye follows, leaving just me and Demetria.

"Do you wanna try something else? It's the last day of training before the interview and everything."

My heart sinks just a little. After this, the small moment where I feel happy just tying knots, making fires and building shelters with three people I consider as close friends, it will all be gone. The minute that plate clicks into place, only one person can go home. And if it's me, then the others are going to die. For them to win, I'll have to die. And that's something I don't _want_ to face just yet.

"N-No, I'm fine, you go on ahead, I just wanna perfect this."

"Veen, you are a master at it, you don't need more practice."

"I know.. I-I just wanna be sure, that's all."

Demetria accepts my feeble attempt at a reason and stalks off to Everest and Rye on the other side of the room. As the rope brushes harshly against my skin, I fight back all happiness as possible. The quicker I lose it, the quicker I can remember where I am, what needs to be done and what it takes to get back home.

I look over one last time at the three of them, making note of how my heart pounds harder.

They're my friends and three, if not all of us, are going to die.

* * *

**Demetria Greene.**

"Lunch!"

I place down the hatchet, wrapped firmly in my hand and look over at the head trainer. She walks away back in the lunchroom, and instantly, my eyes search for my alliance. It's crazy how much I've come to respect them all, but deep down, I feel like I _need_ them. That going in this with them will be so much better compared to facing it alone. But my mind switches to reality every so often, reminding me that it's a game of survival, and sooner or later, the alliance will be no more. I just have to pray that they won't get great scores.

I need to be the best out of this small alliance. That way, I have a better chance of surviving then them all. As evil as it sounds, I need Veena, Rye and Everest to get bad scores. It's selfish but it's all about survival, and when that's a factor, you have to think of yourself.

With my tray in hand, I sit at the small table that Veena, Everest and Rye has claimed for us.

"Are you nervous about performing for the Gamemakers?" Veena quickly asks me as I sit down.

I shrug. "Not really. All a bunch of pompous idiots, really, it'll be like performing a play for a bunch of _small_ children."

Veena smiles, going back to eating her food. I glance over the table, locking my gaze on Everest and Rye, both boys eating their meals quietly but not in the usual awkward silence. More like contented silence. That we don't need to talk, just the mutual presence makes us feel at ease.

"So, wh-"

I'm cut off by a loud bang, and on instinct, I snap my head around. The girl from Two is sniggering to herself, whilst the girl from Six is looking furious, her tray of food on the floor.

"_You_ bitch!" Six screams, lunging at Two.

But before she can dig her claws into the Career, a trainer has appeared, wrapping his arms around the young girl and hauling her back. Two only continues to mock her and laugh from a distance, Six being pulled from the room.

"Camila, stop being a complete troublemaker and sit back down." her district partner calls. She swoops her hair over a shoulder and stalks about to the table, full of Careers and a perfect smug look on her face.

By the time I turn back to the others, the contented silence has gone, replaced by a rigid atmosphere. They were scared from that. I was, as well, but like hell am I going to question a Career and definitely not the psycho from Six. I _can't_ show fear

"Those Careers are trouble.." Veena breathes quietly.

Everest and Rye seem to agree, nodding slightly.

"I think they're all show and no do. By the time the arena comes, they'll be just like the rest of us, alienated in a new environment, running for their lives."

"You think?"

"Well except for Two, but that's because they're freaks and can fit in any environment."

I try to laugh at my comment, ease the mood, but can tell it only adds to the looming atmosphere. If they're gonna act like, we won't last long as an alliance. But it proves my point. I am the strongest out of this alliance.

* * *

**Crew Willow.**

As the elevator door opens, I spring into the room.

"Seeder! Seeder!"

She notices me and smiles slightly, moving over to make room on the couch for me. I jump straight for it, bouncing on the leather for a while until Seeder moves in closer to me, filling the gap and making me feel comforted.

"Did you try really hard Crew?"

"I did and I made an alliance!"

"Really?" Seeder looks shocked by this. But I can tell I've made her proud. Hopefully, it'll make mommy proud. "Who are they?"

"Tasi, Woods and Battery!" I squeal. "They're really nice and cool _and_ my new friends!"

Seeder stops for a moment, placing her finger to her lip just like mommy used to do when she was thinking really hard.

"District Seven and Three?"

I nod, glancing over for a short period to see Sorrel walk in and straight to her room, not even looking at either of us. I don't like Sorrel very much. She doesn't seem very friendly and my mommy always told me to never talk to someone if they aren't going to be nice. So I_ haven't_ tried with Sorrel, cause I don't want to disappoint her. But I _could_ try.

"As long as they'll protect you, sweetheart," Seeder smiles. "Did you try anything new today that might help you?"

"I learned how to make a fire!"

"Really? That's exciting," Seeder grins, getting up and encouraging me to the table to eat. I take my seat and she sits opposite me, asking the avox to fill the plates. "Anything else?"

"Nope," I smile, looking at the plate. When I look up, I notice Seeder's smile has faltered, becoming sad. "But I know how to tie knots, make a snare and identify some plants!"

Her smile lifts a little, which makes me happy. I can tell she knows I don't have much chance. But I can't show it. I _have_ to be strong, strong for mommy and Bale and Opal and Tanisha. I can't let them down, I _have_ to make them proud.

* * *

**Branton Callahan.**

Arlo continues to sit their in complete silence, ignoring everything that Blaize is asking her. I can see the frustration on Blaize's face, pale skin turning an angry red.

"Be careful, Blaize," I point my fork at her, swallowing my food. "Keep that up _and_ your skin will be the same colour as your hair."

Her head snaps round, eyes narrowed at me. I can see I've stepped on a touchy subject. Or at least at the wrong timing. I open my mouth, ready to say sorry, but instead, I get a face full of sauce. My tongue grazes my bottom lip. Duck sauce? I use my hand to quickly wipe as much of it away, looking at Blaize, who looks more than satisfied. Arlo, as per usual, seems to be ignoring us.

"That was a bit mean."

"What was mean was your comment," Blaize replies with a raised eyebrow. "I just thought I should repay you."

"By throwing food at me?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

I nod. I did kind of deserve it. But oh well. She should know by now that I never take much things seriously. As I told her, we have only but a few days left until we're gonna have to act like animals, I wanna enjoy it as much as possible.

"Yep, it did, I'm just trying to lighten things up. Seems a little tense."

"Well we are going to our deaths, Bran, I think the tension is needed."

Her words hit home. I guess she's right. But why go out on a bad note? If I have to die, I'd rather go out on a positive note, knowing I enjoyed my last few days as much as possible. _Then_, I'll take things seriously when I'm in the arena. If I even make it past the bloodbath.

"Eat your food, you two, I wanna talk strategies soon." Arlo interjects.

"You speak!" I tease, gaining a scowl in response.

"And sometimes, my dear boy, I wish you didn't. Would make my job a _lot_ easier."

I return to my food, stabbing the lettuce. But in a few days, I won't be stabbing vegetables to eat. I'll be stabbing tributes to survive and win.

* * *

**Just A Game by Birdy.**

**The blog, where you can check out things out, is this - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/** just take out the spaces. 

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

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**Pick your 6 favourite tributes! None can be your own. If you pick your own tribute, I'll put the points on someone else I see fit. You are more than welcome to get friends and everything to vote for your tribute, if you wish. Votes will only be accepted through a review. PM me it and I'll change it because I'm mean like that. Unless your reason is valid. You've been warned.**


	6. Teenagers

_Because the drugs never work, _  
_They're gonna give you a smirk,_  
_Cause they got methods,_  
_Of keeping you clean._  
_They're gonna rip up your heads,_  
_Your aspirations to shreds,_  
_Another cog in the murder machine._

_They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me,_  
_They couldn't care less as long as someone'll bleed._  
_So darken your clothes,_  
_Or strike a violent pose,_  
_Maybe they'll leave you alone,_  
_But not me._  
**  
**

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

I glance around the room, looking at the tributes. All in small groups, the obvious loners keeping to themselves. Alliances are pretty much easy to spot, and the only pleasure I can see is that I rise next to someone's ally and I get to kill them. That'll screw things up for them all in that alliance.

"You have to show _everything_," Kaden urges us. Really, I understand that already, stupid. "_All_ your skills as quickly and great as possible."

"No shit," Troy laughs, turning to look at me. "I'm just going to go in there and not do anything. Bat my eyelashes and look pretty."

Really? That's how low we're stooping? Brat.

"Yeah, or you _could_ show them what a little murderous asshole you are. Then, they'll give you a 12 and every other tribute will attack you. In a group and poof, you'll be gone. Back to a district that hate you in a wooden box."

His eyes narrow, a bloodlust glossing them. "I _would_ say the same for you, but I promise to drag out the pain as long as possible."

I feel the anger rise in me, and without warning, I stand up, knocking my chair back with a thud. Something about him just aggravates me to hell and back. He acts high and mighty, despite his age, but really, he's a little wannabe who will get burned the closer he steps towards the sun.

"Nico Cashlin!" an attendant calls.

I spin on my heel, sending one look at my poor excuse for an alliance and strut off into the room. When the doors open, I'm met with the quiet chatter of the Gamemakers, Bark Farrell sat in the middle. It's him I need to impress. The others are quite literally his bitches, and so, it's still his decision at the end of the day.

I stand proudly in the middle, making sure to blink a few times so my eyes become obvious. Not-so-secret weapon right there.

"Nico Cashlin, District One." I declare, walking over to the one weapon I know best. A sword. That'll impress them. It's a bloodthirsty weapon, sure to bring about a lot of pain.

I move over to the plastic white dummies, bringing my weapon and charging it forward. Bit by bit, I slice the limbs of the dummy off until it's nothing more than a torso. I smirk, satisfied, before walking over to the trainer, stepping forward with a sword in his hand. Quickly, I swing it and before I know it, we'll battling it out for a period of time. Metal collides against metal, and all I can hear, is the faint cheers and screams, the fan fares waiting for me at the Capitol. My adoring crowd, President Snow crowning me.

It's all I ever want.

"That's enough." someone calls and instantly, I snap out my dream. Which will soon become reality. I smile, placing the sword back and entering the elevator on the far side.

By the time I've reached the room, Topaz is waiting eagerly, clearly worried. She has no reason to be, I done perfect because I am perfect.

"Did you do well?"

"Does a fish swim?"

"Stop being a smart ass and answer. Did you do well?"

"I'm a Career, from District One, with my talent _and_ gorgeous looks. What do you think?"

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

Six keeps staring at me. It's amusing, how that little thing with the boy cut thinks she can take the likes of me on. I've seen her, with her pathetic knife. She can handle it, sure, but I can throw mine. Who has the advantage? Me. And hopefully the Cornucopia has that, cause the minute I grab one, it'll be spiralling in the air towards her neck.

"Camila Norvic."

I rise, passing a look at Troy and Nerine as I stalk off. Them two alone? I feel for her. He's twisted, she's pure, and it no doubt makes the whole thing seem like such a tragedy. And yet, I couldn't give a _crap_. If he doesn't kill her, I will, then him, then the rest and then the glory is mine.

When the doors opens up, I don't even bother to announce my name. They better get used to it, seeing as they will be hearing it for years to come. That girl from Two who was just amazing and flawless. She knows how to put on a good show and everything else that's positive and full of intense jealousy.

My fingers curl around a bunch of knives, and instantly, I'm transported back to Two. Where missing a target meant one day without food, confined in a small, dark room, left to your own thoughts and cries. It was bad, but at least it makes my aim the best. Nobody can top me. No-one. With a flick of my wrist, the first dagger shoots across the room with a metallic whistle, landing directly in the centre of the dummies forehead.

Quickly after that, the rest escape my fingers so freely. I hear a gasp, a small applause and suddenly, I'm not at the Training Centre. I'm in a room, performing.

But when I see my sight, I can't help but smirk.

From the first hole in the middle of the forehead, I've made sure each dagger lands on a certain position. With the light catching it, I can fully well see that I've created a heart, daggers stabbing into the plastic all around the face and the silver of the metal shines beautifully.

It's quite beautiful and as I walk away, I know that'll give me a good score.

The elevator hums its awful tune just as the doors slid open. No-one is around. Except Kaden, of course. Marcia is probably off planning on how to kill Kaden a lot quicker whilst Liam is no doubt trying to pull in all the sponsors for Kaden alone.

"What did you do?"

"I created a heart."

"Aw, how_ precious_," Kaden smirks. "Does somebody have a little crush?"

"Do you know what I wanna crush?" The anger sparks.

His eyes glint, his lips form a smirk and before I know it, my lips are pressed tightly against his.

In the blur of the moment, I notice him pushing me across the room, hands on my hips, slamming me against the wall. He moans, I groan and the whole thing sends shivers down my spine.

Perfect. Right where _I_ want him.

* * *

**Glitch Mayhew.**

As I step in through the doors, I can see that the majority of Gamemakers have turned around, not interested. Why would they be? After four no doubt fabulous performances from One and Two, why wait for the nerd from Three to show some stupid invention off.

But I won't. As much as I think that's my best shot, I need to stand out and to do that, I need to be different. Like Battery.

I laugh to myself as I walk off over to the survival skills. It's not much, but it's the best I can do without any technology and electronics with me. If I did, I could probably just blow a hole in the wall and run. Run. Run. Run all the way back to District Three where my family, Switch and Hinge are waiting for me to return.

But that's a dream and this is reality.

I show the Gamemakers my easy attempt at making a fire, fashioning a net out of some vines and more importantly, I decide on throwing a large dumbell across the room.

"That's enough."

I snap back, not even realising that the three minutes had gone by so quickly. Survival skills and throwing a giant weight.. Yep, that's going to get me a crap score. Oh the joys. I cross the room, folding my arms and keeping my lips sealed. The elevator doors open, I get inside, they shut and I'm swallowed by the machine that hums when it rises. A small ding signals them opening, revealing Walden and Beatrice sat at the table, masses of paper littered across it.

"What are those?"

"Me and Beatrice are planning out strategies," Walden confirms. "We are working out the be-"

"I plan to do this alone."

Walden drops the pen gripped in his hand, looking at me with such confusion, it even makes me wonder my decision.

"That's not a good idea Glitch." Beatrice quips in.

"I have my plan, I know what to do so honestly, you should worry about Battery."

"We already know of Battery's alliance with Seven and the boy from Eleven. It's a rather bold move, I'll give her that."

"Yes, you do that," I roll my eyes. "I'm going to bed, I'm far too tired."

"It's lunchtime. Don't you want to see the training scores?"

"And see a 1? No _thanks_. Rather spend my last two days sleeping before I'm thrown into the wild like an animal, forced to fight for my life."

* * *

**Nerine Monroe.**

The Gamemakers dismiss me and for some reason, I feel good about myself. I'm from Four, of course I know how to use a trident. I speared as many as possible, even threw it at one point, although it completely missed the intended target. But still, I doubt I could do any better than Troy probably did.

He's murderous, it's obvious to every tribute, so they were probably so excited by performance that they might forget my small little mistake.

I can only hope and right now, that's _all_ I have.

"How did you do sweetheart?" Mags asks as I enter the room.

"I think I did okay," I smile. "I made a small mistake though.."

"Only a minor thing, it won't do no real harm."

"It could affect my score though."

"I'll have you know that when I was a tribute, my score was a 2. And yet, I still won."

She's right. I remember that in District Four, between the times of the Hunger Games, they play re-runs of old ones sometimes. I've watched Mags' arena so many times, it's unhealthy. A dry desert with a small oasis on the far back as their only source of water. Careers occupied it within seconds. Mags managed to win by outlasting the others on dehydration. For some reason, us in Four, we don't need water as quickly as others. Must be the sea salt in the air or something.

"I know, I'm just.. Nervous."

"For what?"

"I'm the weakest Career and you can't even call me that. They all volunteered, I didn't. Unless I prove myself, they'll kill me within seconds and I need to try and get home."

I don't even notice the tears rolling down my cheek until Mags cleans one away with her finger, smiling ever so softly. I am the baggage. I'm not trained like Camila or Kaden. I'm not a Victor's daughter like Diamond. I'm not skilled _and_ beautiful like Nico and I'm _far_ from being the demon that is Troy. I'm normal Nerine Monroe.

The _unlucky_ reaped girl from a Career district.

"Come and have some lunch, they'll show the scores in a couple of hours and then we'll find out."

I smile, taking the seat on the couch, waiting for people to bring me the food. But despite the comfort from Mags and the lacking presence of Lagoon and Troy, I still can't shake the feeling that I've let everyone down and more importantly, myself.

Might as well cross my name off the list.

* * *

**Viola Grimm.**

I throw my spoon back in the bowl, annoyed once again by Buzz's whining and Caspian's attempts at consoling him and Aster just being Aster.

"Really, is it _that_ hard to shut him up?"

Caspian looks at me, pain across his face and worry in his eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Viola, b-b-"

"Don't say sorry, Caspian," Aster's eyebrows drop. "Viola shouldn't be so rude."

"Rude?" Really? I'm being rude now? I'm not the one disturbing other people from eating because they can't stop their constantly blubbering.

"Yes, Viola, rude. Stop being a brat and sympathise with Buzz. You're the same age and going through the same thing."

That gets me. Same thing? Me and Buzz are completely different. I might be a brat, but I'm not spoilt. Buzz lives in a large house with family working hard and providing money. I live in a one-room house with 3 younger siblings and barely any money coming in. He's had the life of luxury and I've suffered. He's crying because he's not used to the suffering. I am, I'm _well_ adjusted to it.

"We might be going through the same thing, but it's completely different!"

"How so?"

"Him," I point my finger at Buzz, eerily similar to after the parade. "He has had it all given to him on a plate, never had to work or worry! He's crying because he's finally had to face something that isn't dirt under his fingernails! Me, I've had to go to hell and back and you think I want to sympathise with him?"

Aster's face goes numb. Caspian looks shocked and funny enough, similar to my outburst at the parade, Buzz has stopped his whining.

"Finally, _someone_ has shut him up. And once again, it wasn't you morons."

I smirk as I shovel another spoon of the soup into my mouth. If me shouting finally gets Buzz to close that mouth of his, shock Caspian into having mini heart attacks when I have a fit and to completely shut Aster up, then I might carry this on. Might as well enjoy myself before the points come up tonight. That'll seal my fate for sure.

* * *

**Halston Salvador.**

I sit on the couch, happy that my performance went reasonably well. They must have been bored by the pair from Five, seeing as they seemed almost drunk and they weren't even through half of the districts. It was pitiful, but they sure perked up when I came on. I smirk, remembering the memory of me pulling out a simple piece of pipe and ripping the dummy to shreds within seconds. Then, my handiness with all the other weapons.

I definitely performed, now, I just need to pray that Ryder doesn't.

How_ hilarious_ it would be to sit down here with both her and Polo, seeing my score and then seeing her score, the huge difference. It would be beyond entertaining. But a part of me feels that I won't get a high score. That, somehow, Polo will have words or something and Ryder will do better than me.

She can't. She won't.

But Polo has always favourited her over me. Since the reaping, I can see she sees potential in Ryder and not me. That I'm not good enough? I'm beyond fucking good. And I'll prove it when Ryder's cannon sounds straight after the gong. Because that's what is going to happen. The minute I can, I'll sprint for the Cornucopia, grab a weapon and then hunt her down. Make her pay. Make them all pay. One by one, the tributes will fall. For underestimating me. For pushing me aside.

For thinking they are better when they don't even realise how capable I am.

The looks on their faces when I watch the colour drain from their eyes, their body nothing more than a empty shell as the cold teeth pull them away.

If there is anything left of them, especially Ryder. I'll hurt her so much, they won't even recognise her.

The door slides open, Ryder walking in with a smug grin on her face. How I wouldn't miss the chance to rip it off with my bare hands. She looks over at Polo, the woman keeping to herself and her lunch.

"How did you think you did?"

"Amazing," Ryder smirks. "By the time I went in, they seemed bored out of their tiny minds. Looks like Halston didn't leave _much_ of an impression."

I snap my head around and glare at her. Make an impression? I wonder if me attacking her and throwing her out the window right now would leave an impression. But I can't. By the time I realise anything, Polo has gotten up and is pointing at me accusingly and all I hear is the noise of glass shattering.

"Don't you _dare_," Polo looks pissed. Then, I realise I've stood up and flipped the glass table over, pieces spread across the floor. "Get in your room."

I don't bother to question her. I knew she was out to get me from the start. That she favoured Ryder. But I'll get revenge.

That's a given.

* * *

**Woods Davis.**

"Woods, come here."

I look over from the table, noticing Tasi sat at the couch, waiting for the TV to begin. Any minute, the private training scores will come up and then it'll tell us whether or not we're gonna get sponsors. It's a given the Careers got good scores, and even if they didn't, One would surely get the sponsors needed.

For some reason, I can't see me or Tasi getting sponsors. Battery might, but only because the Capitol like the fact that she isn't the stereotype to Three. Compared to me and Tasi. Then there's Crew, but again, no-one is going to sponsor so young. They probably think he won't live past the bloodbath. I walk over, noticing the small smile on Tasi's face.

"Miss me?"

"Of course," Tasi blushes slightly. Gentle giant, how adorable. "But I don't want to see our scores without you here."

"It won't be ready for a few more minutes, Tas. They gotta evaluate it and all that."

"I know," Tasi slightly frowns, which worries me, because since we've started all this, since the reaping, he's been brave and either smiling or keeping his face straight. Never once showing negative emotion. "I just _need_ you to be here with me for when it happens. Because once mine and yours picture and number comes up, it all becomes real."

"Real?"

"That we're going in the arena in 2 days. That.."

He trails off, which worries me even greater. I slide along the couch, closing in, letting my hand fall onto his. Instantly, he flips it and wraps his hand over mine, being the protector as per usual. "That what?"

"That one of us is going to die."

"You _won't_ die, Tas, you're _gonna_ win."

Tasi shakes his head. Why doesn't he think he won't win? Besides the brute from Six, he's a sure enemy of the Careers. He doesn't speak for a moment, and as I lean in closer, I see the faint shine of a tear building up over his dark eyes, glimmering.

He looks at me with such emotion, all built up, it's like he's going to explode.

"I'm not going to live, Woods, because I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that _you_ win. That you go home to your family. To Seven."

He sadly smiles, looks away and then, I can see the tear rolling down his face ever so slowly, leaving behind a shiny trail. He wants to save me. He wants me to win, even if it means that he's going to die. I don't think. It's built up in me too. I lean across, pucker my lips and place the sweetest kiss on his cheek.

He needs to know I care. That he's been my rock since the reaping, since he stopped me from falling. Before, I was determined to go home. Now, I can't bear to be _without_ him.

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

Denim sits on the chair furthest away from me, Dorsey and Silk, clearly wanting to avoid us all. It's alright, you _keep_ doing that, just digging yourself a bigger hole. When they catch you, don't expect me to save you. You're a goner the minute you step off that plate. Whereas me, I've played it great. I've played my part, now, it all boils down to the starting gong. My plan is set and _no-one_ will expect it.

Avoiding them all in training. Keeping to my sweet self. How stupid they all are.

"They're starting."

Well done Silk, you can state the obvious. Really, it's ridiculous that we even have any Victors at all. They're all useless. I'll be the best then, clearly.

The boy from One's picture pops up on the screen, and for that second, all I can see is his eyes. So deadly. Underneath in big bold letters, the number 9 flashes. Impressive. His district partner follows, also gaining a 9. Looks like One is more than _just_ their looks.

Two quickly follows. He pulls an 11. That scares me a little, but thankfully, it just means that he'll be able to take the others a lot quicker. I can Silk gasp slightly, which bugs me, because if it isn't painstakingly obvious, Careers get high scores Silk. Camila follows, pulling a 10. Bet she wasn't too proud of that. Three is next, though I don't remember much about them. Neither looked like threats.

Then the one I've been waiting for. Troy. His picture comes up, his cold eyes piercing through the screen, staring right at me like they did at the parade. 10. I smile, so he is good. That's brilliant, the better the numbers, the more aggressive personalities and the more likely the Career alliance will turn on each other. The girl from Four pulls a 7. She's the weak link, she's my way into that alliance.

Five blurs by, the boy pulling a 1 and the girl gaining only a 2. The brute from Six pops up, showing off his lovely 8. His district partner only pulls a 6, but something about her tells me to watch out. Seven appears, the boy pulling a 7. He's going to be a threat. His partner, Woods I recall, pulls a 6 also.

Then, I wait with baited breath.

My time.

My plan should have worked. It went so well, it was almost _unfair_. They'll all be shocked. One will smirk, Two will laugh, Three will feel pity, Troy will be happy, Nerine will feel guilty, Five would be happy that someone else sucks, Six won't care and Seven are just stupid. The lower districts? Please, they aren't competition. They won't ever know what hit their poor, little underfed brains.

Then there's Denim, who will smile. Oh, if only she knew that like everyone else, she's walking straight into my trap. Amateurs, the _lot_ of them. Their deaths were certain when their names were drawn.

My picture comes up, the number flashes and I have to bite back my smile. 1. It worked. Dorsey gasps, and for a second, I think she's going to leap across the couch and hug me. I can see the faint tears well up in Silk's eyes. Don't cry for me, you should really be crying for the other tributes.

They won't know what hit them.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

_You won't last it._

_Your score reflects you. A loser. A failure. You aren't going to last five minutes._

Once again, I don't realise what's happening until I feel the soft and warm touch of Veena's hand, thumb rubbing a circle on my palm. Something she's been doing a lot. I snap back to reality, Veena's smile being the first thing I see. I need her. I need Everest. Never before have I needed someone, but her and Everest, they _help_ me. They pull me back up when _he_ tries to bring me down.

"Are you okay Rye?"

"Yeah," I smile back. "Just.. Nervous."

"Same, but I know that you, Everest and Demetria will have my back and that makes me feel better."

She smiles, before turning back to the TV, her hand never leaving mine once. The first bunch of scores go by in a blur, the only ones that stick out are the 1 and 2 for the kids from Five, only a year younger than me. Then there's the psycho from Four with his 10 and the Career from Two with his 11. Everything else, I just don't remember.

Eight pops up, the boy getting a 1 and the girl, the scary looking one, pulls a 7.

They done well. And all I fear is that I won't. That my score will be so low, I won't pull a single sponsor. Without sponsors, the alliance will have to depend on the arena for everything. Then there's the possibility of getting hurt. But I know I won't pull sponsors. It won't happen. Nine never gets sponsors.

Then my picture and name flashes up and my whole body stops. It's like time has frozen. 5. I managed to get a 5.

_See what I told you? The minute that gong has rung out, your cannon will follow. You're nothing._

"Well done Rye, you done good." Veena smiles, squeezing on my hand again. It's her touch that makes time go back to normal.

"And you're going to do great," I reply. "You deserve it so much more than I do."

Then, Veena follows and pulls the exact same score as me. Average. Because we are average and nothing more. Just simple teenagers from Nine, with no help but our fields and grains. Veena is _too_ kind and friendly to be here, me, I'm just the little fucked up boy you can't pull himself together to realise that he's _going_ to die, and if he doesn't, good people who _don't_ deserve it will.

Victory and Wheat congratulate us, Veena smiles and then it gets too much. _He's_ trying to force his way out. I quickly pace back to my bedroom, shut the door and lock it. It's too early to go to bed, but I have to stay away. I have to keep _him_ under control so no-one gets hurt.

But I don't know how much longer I can.

Sooner or later, though, I'm just going to lose all control and explode.

* * *

**Everest Sawyer.**

Rye got a 5. I can't help but feel a bit bad for that. If Demetria and Veena had let us move onto weapons a lot quicker than they did, he could have got more practice in and more importantly, he could have got a higher score. Then there would have been sponsors. Sponsors and items we need.

"_Told_ you they would be decent but not a major problem." Demetria mentions.

"Yeah, you were right," I nod, being brought out my thoughts. "But we shouldn't be pleased they got average scores."

"Why not? It means a better chance for us."

"But Dem, you're happy they got bad scores? They wouldn't for us. They would feel bad if _we_ got only average scores."

"Don't you understand it's a game, Ev? Only one is going to survive. You need to realise that the alliance works because we have strong ones and then we have the weaker ones. Don't get me wrong, I care a lot more than I should for Veena and Rye, but that's not going to help me get home."

"That's unfair."

"What's _unfair_ is the situation all of us that were reaped have been pulled in. It's about time you get back to reality and remember that sooner or later, this alliance _will_ be over and we'll be enemies. I don't want it as much as you, but there's nothing we can do about it."

Demetria crosses her arms across her chest, leaning back into the seat as she stares down the TV. Jederoe doesn't bother to even look up, he just keeps himself to his bottle of whiskey, sitting in the corner. Buttercup, on the other hand, looks on tenderhooks, pacing behind us but completely ignoring our conversation. Probably worried about the scores.

I doubt I done good. I didn't exactly want to impress those that plan on playing with my life. But I do want to go home. Back to Trinity. She needs me, more than anything. After everything we've been through, she can't do this alone. She needs me and if I don't return, she'll be alone. And that can't happen.

My picture soon flashes up, a bright coloured 6 sitting underneath. Quickly, it's replaced by Demetria and her 7. I hear the faint sound of Buttercup cheering, and as I turn, even Jederoe looks happy. And of course, Demetria is over the moon.

She was right. Stronger ones and weaker ones.

I managed to get a better score than both Rye and Veena. But why do I feel so bad?

But as I think about it, all I can imagine is Trinity wanting me back home to be by her side. Then, her face disappears and it's replaced by Rye and Veena, how innocent and good they are. How they _don't_ deserve to be here. Me and Demetria, we can at least protect ourselves.

I don't see Rye or Veena like that. To me, they're both _far_ too pure.

And I _will_ do my best to help them, no matter the cost.

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

Crew looks happy. I don't understand why, but I guess he should be. Twelve years old and managed to pull a 3. That's better than all the other youngsters. It's not great, but he knows something, otherwise, he'd have got a 1 like the boys from Five and Eight.

"Well done Sorrel," Banks says to me with a toothy smile. "A 7 is absolutely amazing. Ironically, it's the same score both me and Seeder pulled when we won! It must be a good sign."

He finishes his sentence with a wink, which is odd for Banks, but it still manages to make me smile.

7. I done better than the pair from Twelve, both pulling a 6 each.

I've made it clear I'm as much in this competition as the Careers. I'm a threat. Denim pulled a 7, which is good but also bad. I expected her to pull a 6, maximum, but a 7 means I made the right choice in keeping her on. But it just means that killing her off when I don't need her no more will be _more_ trickier than I first thought.

I walk across the room, noticing Crew's wide grin staring at me. I have to admit, he's adorable. I know I won't kill him and I won't let Denim touch him. He's _far_ too precious, but I still plan on going home, I just hope that a Career or one of the weaklings take him out.

"Well done." Crew smiles.

I nod, smiling, realising it's not forced at all. "You done good as well. Beating the two 13 year olds? Pretty impressive."

He likes the compliment, seeing as his smile gets even bigger, teeth bared.

"I try my hardest. I wanted to make mommy proud."

His mom? He's never mentioned family before. That's definitely new. Deep down inside, I can my heart thud a bit. Seeder wasn't entirely right. She just assumes he's oblivious to it all, that he doesn't know he's going to have to fight and has little to no chance in surviving. But he's putting on a brave face. He's taking it in his stride, showing that he isn't some babbling fool like Five. He's showing the whole of Panem that even they can't bring him down.

"She will be so proud."

He nods, jumps a little on the spot and then sprints back over to Seeder, who quickly wraps him up in her arms protectively. It's going to break her heart.

She nods at me, which I take as a sign of congratulations. She knows I'm determined to win. She knows that for me to win, Crew dies. But if I get to come home, I can do District Eleven justice. They'll have more food.

Seeing Crew, I make a little mental note. When _I_ win, the Willow family gets some money. For Crew.

* * *

**Blaize Diano.**

The cold, Capitol air brushes in through my curtains, sending a chill through my room. Midnight. You'd think, in a city made of cosmetics and enhancements, they'd be able to change the temperature at night and not make it so freezing. If they can make a death trap for children, they should at least be able to make it warm.

I tug the blankets up closer, burying the bottom half of my face under the covers, only my eyes on show. Shadows lurk in each corner, devouring every light fragment left until I'm finally swallowed by darkness. The faint sounds of the busy Capitol city below ring out, the noises of cars, people talking and chatting, just general noise. Not the kind you get back at Twelve. There, it's children crying, people groaning from the sickeness, the haunting hiss of the coal, blowing through the air.

Yet, I miss it.

There's a light tap against the door, and instantly, I jerk my body upwards, facing it. I_ expect_ it to be Arlo, to remind me that Twelve hasn't had a winner for years and it's because the tributes are useless and never got higher than a 7. Apparently, that's what you need to win.

I don't recall her Games being like that. If I recall, 14 died within minutes because they didn't understand the ruling about waiting 60 seconds. They got blown to pieces. That was back in the 3rd Games, when it was all relatively new. I remember watching a clip at home. For the first 5 minutes of the game, all you could hear was booms and screaming.

Followed by 14 cannons.

Hour later, another 8 followed. 3 hours in and Arlo was crowned victorious, managing to outlast hunger the longest, since it's a daily chore in Twelve.

But as the wooden door creaks open and light streams in, I can see _his_ face. Branton.

"What do you want Branton?"

He stands there, quiet. "I came to say goodnight."

"You've already said goodnight.. Look, if this is one of your 'tricks' or 'jokes', then I'm _not_ in the mood. So go back to bed."

He doesn't reply. His shadow stretches across the carpet, body composed.

"Branton?"

He steps in, closes the door and continues to stand there. After a few seconds of silence and looking at each other, he coughs and shuffles on his feet.

"Can I stay in here? It's just.. Been a really _long_ day and I don't think I could sleep alone. I need company. I'll stay on the floor, though."

Branton Callahan plus serious equals out of the ordinary. But then again, I can see why. After today, then tomorrow with the interviews, we'll be dropped in the arena. Me and Branton against 22 others. It's not going to be an easy thing, considering the last few days I've been taking it seriously and Branton has been playing the practical joker.

Another gust whips through the air, and quickly, I decide that I don't want Branton sleeping on the floor and I could use the extra warmth. I slide over, knock back the covers and pat the bed.

"Does baby wanna sleep in here with me?" I tease, taking a sample from Branton's book. "Or the floor, it's your call."

Through the darkness I see a faint smile and then, the bed drops as Branton hauls his body in. His presence soothes me and instantly, I fall asleep, knowing at least I'll have Branton, whether he's the best choice _or_ is going to be the bane of my existing life.

* * *

**Teenagers by My Chemical Romance.**

**The blog, where you can see things, is this - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co .**** uk/ just take out the spaces. Training scores have been posted, also.****  
**

* * *

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	7. Eyes Open

_The tricky thing,  
Is yesterday we were just children,  
Playing soldiers,  
Just pretending,  
Dreaming dreams with happy endings.  
In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords,  
But now we've stepped into a cruel world,  
Where everybody stands and keeps score._

_Keep your eyes open -_

_Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown,_  
_Everybody's watching to see the fallout,_  
_Even when you're sleeping, sleeping._  
_Keep your ey-eyes open,_  
_Keep your ey-eyes open,_  
_Keep your ey-eyes open._

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

I can hear the faint sounds of the crowd roaring, lights flashing down and disappearing, illuminating parts of the crowd and the stage. It's all so wonderful. I shuffle my shoulders, easing my body and preparing my best smile. I _know_ what to prepare for. I'm a Victor's daughter, that doesn't happen often. In fact, I think I'm the first. And obviously, I'm not just any Victor's daughter. I'm the daughter of the most famous Victor to ever come from District One.

Caesar Flickman walks onto the stage, this year, decked out in lime green hair and the same twinkling, midnight blue suit that he wears most years. Usually the ones he thinks will be the best.

"Welcome Panem!" he shouts, raising his arms. The crowd responds with louder claps and cheers.

"Good luck," I hear Nico whisper over my shoulder. I turn, staring him down. "It's just me saying good luck."

"Luck is for _losers_," I respond, smiling. "So good luck."

I hear the whistle as my name gets called out, and on instinct just like I've been trained to do, I strut out onto the stage. Lights beam towards me, the flashes of camera pepper through the audience. I can't see, but that doesn't stop me smiling and playing my card right. I take my seat opposite Caesar, ready to show them all what Savoy's daughter is really like.

"Diamond Lacette, a Victor's daughter," Caesar gushes. "How wonderfully proud your father must be."

"He's incredibly proud, Caesar," I flash a smile. "He told me us Lacette's have it in our blood to win. That's what I plan on doing."

"Oh really? Well if you're anything like your father, then we are in for a show!" he beams, the crowd responds and I just smile. Just like father did. "But we're here for you. So tell me Diamond, what do _you_ think of your chances? You pulled a 9, which is outstanding!"

"I would say my chances are good, slightly better than some of the others though."

The crowd eats it up. Whistles, my name being called, claps. Perfection. "Would you now? How about your district partner, Nico, what do you think of him?"

I grit my teeth. This I have to lie about. All of One are expecting me to return home, to do that, I have to show that I can at least tolerate Nico to the point where I don't want to strangle him to death and let someone else take him out. But I've been trained. I can do this. People need to know that the Career alliance this year is by far the strongest they've ever seen. That even though we are dysfunctional, they can't see it.

"Nico is wonderful. He's a great help, but at the end of the day, only one can win and I can ensure everybody in Panem that it'll be me."

They eat it up again. More flashes and whistles, I even hear someone call me gorgeous.

Sponsors should be_ pouring_ in. More than Nico, hopefully.

* * *

**Kaden Hallory.**

"So we not only have Savoy Lacette's daughter in these Games, but we also have the _other_ Hallory brother!"

I nod, smile but keep my cool. It's given me an advantage, I can tell you that. But I do plan to be better than Liam _ever_ was. Sure, he won when the odds were against him. But with a training score of 11, trained and leading the Careers, I have this in the bag better than anyone else. Liam was nothing more than a pawn. I plan to lead the whole game.

"I know, but as brothers, we've always been in tough competition. I plan to do better, just to be able to rub it in his face."

The crowd rips into laughter, Caesar looks ready to pass out with excitement and through all this, I cast my look at the stands, looking at Camila. She done good in her interview. Milked the crowd for all it was worth. Really, she's not just the psycho everyone thinks she is. She does have a heart, it might be cold and doesn't beat a lot, but she _does_ have one.

"That's good for us then! Means we're in for a show, ladies and gentleman!"

I hear the faint sound of a buzzer, I shake Caesar's hand and I get up. That was quick and easy.

As I take down the flight of steps, I pass the girl from Three, looking slightly nervous about the whole ordeal. Really, it's only talking. Surely Three can do that, since they tinker around with technology all day long.

"You done good," Camila smirks, raising her eyebrow. Her body looks slim, a bright red dress clinging to her flesh. "But I was a _lot_ better."

"Your looks make up for your lack of skills." I tease.

"You won't be saying that when you look me in the eye as I stab you through the heart."

"I look forward to it, if you ever get the chance," I reply icy, still smirking back at her. "Because with your little heart condition, I _doubt_ you could keep up with the rest of us."

Her face turns the same colour as her dress. Fiery red. "How do you know about that?"

I lean forward, inches from her ear, just so no-one can hear us. Particularly Panem. "We went to the Training Centre together, Cam, don't you think I got Liam to get me your files so I would_ know_ what to expect?"

I pull away, biting back the laugh that is threatening to erupt. Camila looks pissed off. It's highly amusing.

"That's not fair at all, Hallory," Camila glares. "We're supposed to be working together to take the rest of them out."

I move closer to her, taking her hand in mine. "We will. But after that, you're a goner Norvic. Don't expect to be returning home."

Her eyes narrow even further as she yanks her hand from mine. With one more disgusted look, Camila spins on her heel and begins to walk off.

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

The buzzer rings, I climb off my seat and walk back to my spot, unable to barely move in the dress. For some reason, even against Beatrice's wishes, my stylist chose to throw me in the tightest of clothing, skin on show from every direction. I know my angle is the 'not-so-typical-District-Three-girl', but is there any need to dress me like_ this_?

It's bringing in sponsors, so I guess I'll tolerate it. I will need as much help as possible.

I watch as Glitch takes his place, body stiffened through nerves. Normally, after a while, you can really get him to open up. But big crowds and strangers, you get an entirely different Glitch. Caesar tries to make a joke, Glitch doesn't respond. He sticks to himself, quiet and solitude, pretty much refusing to meet any of Caesar's helpful tactics.

I don't get it, but then again, Glitch doesn't seem to want help. Refused to join an alliance. Refused to play the parade to get attention. Refused to train properly. And now, refusing to make the effort with the interviews. It's honestly like he's given up on everything.

"So Glitch, you're a good-looking young man, got the attention of any of the ladies back in Three?"

Oh no. Glitch's face stays calm, but from his body language, I can tell that his blood is on fire. Hinge isn't the greatest topic for him to talk about.

"N-N-No."

"That doesn't sound very_ truthful_," Caesar teases and the crowd roars into a chanting, demanding for an answer. "Tell us, Glitch, whose the lucky girl!"

I can only look on, feeling just as horrible as Glitch does. I turn to look through the other tributes, noticing both Tasi and Woods look sympathetic. They don't Glitch, despite inviting him to the alliance, but they of all people should be able to tell about wanting to talk about loved ones of not. If either Tasi or Woods gets questioned on the other, they plan to play it safe. Don't let any ideas on.

"Hinge."

My heart drops. I can small, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It's too touchy.

"What a lovely, District Three name!" Caesar replies, almost in a mocking tone.

I can see his fists clenching up. Don't do anything stupid, Glitch. Don't do it.

Thankfully, I don't have to pray anymore. The buzzer rings, Caesar holds out his hand to say goodbye to Glitch, Glitch completely ignores it and stomps off stage.

"Gli-"

I don't get to finish it. I wanted to comfort him, like he did with me in the elevator. But instead, he ignores me and walks straight along the line, heading off to who knows where.

* * *

**Troy Reed.**

I take my seat, smiling at Caesar. It's not your average, cute smile that Nerine put on. It's a belittling smile. People think of me as psychotic, but really, that's because I let them see it. But like some of these idiots, I know how to act. I can hide it, I just _choose_ to show it. It's much more fun seeing them all squirm and freak out by my presence. That's the best part about District Four and why Nerine got reaped and no-one replaced her.

Because people _fear_ me. But I want that.

Back in Four, people were scared of me cause they knew about me. They knew how I killed animals and taunted my parents with their blood and dead bodies. How they tried to slice my wrists and drain me of blood, but instead, I survived. How they sleep at night with knives under their pillow, terrified I'll walk in and kill them in their sleep. I guess, in a weird sense, I'm the monster in the scary stories that parents tell their children.

Behave or Troy will come and _get_ you.

"So, Troy," Caesar crosses his hands on his hip, looking ridiculous. He looks like a walking lime. "Your reapings. District Four's reactions were.. Different to what normal volunteers get. Can you explain that?"

Do I say that they all fear me? Of course not. I need to act my part.

"I guess they were just confused by how young and confident I am," I smile, raising my eyebrow. "I mean, I'm only 14, taking on the Games by volunteering."

"That's very true! You must be good at what you do, considering you got a 10 in training scores!"

"That I did," I nod. "As I said, people underestimate me because of my age and size. But really, they don't see I'm just a threat as everyone else. If not, more."

"Does that count for your district?" Caesar skates around the subject. It would be better if he just _asked_ me, but hey, I'll play your stupid game.

"Yes," I reply, arrogance laced in my voice. "I guess they also underestimate me and what I can do."

With that sentence, I stare dead-on at the camera, hoping that every single person sat in District Four, staring at their TV sets, has chills running up their spines at this very moment. They're all scared of me? Wait until they see me in the arena. Then they'll see me in action and hopefully, they'll be even more fucking terrified than before.

"Ooo," Caesar says to the crowd, noticing that the whole audience has gone silent as I stare at the camera. "Looks like age won't affect you at all!"

"It won't."

Caesar nods, realising that I'm done acting. It's tiring keeping up a charade. But sadly, I have to, I need some sponsors and I need some people to actually like me. Otherwise, the Gamemakers will catch on and I can tell I won't last long. The buzzer rings and I stand up, shaking on Caesar's hand.

As I walk off, I look at the shrimp from Five, shaking like a leaf. She looks scared out of her tiny mind.

I wonder if Five tell their children scary stories about me, also?

* * *

**Buzz Alloy.**

I walk off stage, smiling. They asked me questions on mommy. I didn't know _how_ to answer, but it made me miss her so much. I just hope she is watching me. Viola's interview was boring, though. They didn't even ask about her family because her family is boring. Being from the rich part of District Five, you get treats. Viola is slum scum.

But my mommy told me to never call them that to their faces. Though I wish I could say it to Viola, just to watch her just annoyed.

"Well done, Buzz," Caspian smiles, pulling me into a hug. He's like my big brother. I've always wanted a big brother. "You answered perfectly."

"I done what you taught me." I smile back.

I try to stay calm. But it all rushes back, the fact that I miss my mommy and my daddy. Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I don't know what's going on, but Caspian is cradling me, telling me that it's going to be okay.

But will it? Will I get to see mommy again?

Did mommy punish me and sent me to the Games as a lesson? I've learned my lesson, I won't be bad again.

"Caspian, is he crying again?" Aster asks, but I continue to cry.

"Yeah, I think talking about his mom got to him."

"That's what the audience wants to hear, though," Aster sighs. "The Capitol love a good sob story from a district. To them, it's like watching animals in a zoo."

"Yes, but why Buzz? He's 13. That's just cruel."

"You were 16 and they done the same to you. They talked about your dead parents and disabled sister."

I hear Caspian's heart beat faster, my head buried in his chest. He's trying to protect me. Just like mommy and daddy do when the kids at school bully me. But the thought only makes me cry harder, and by now, I can hear the elevator doors open, followed by Viola's annoying voice.

"He's crying again? This is getting tedious. Really, he should learn that he's not going home."

"Viola, be quiet."

"Make me."

"Viola.."

"Let's face it. We all know that Buzz will come in 24th. So quit crying and just live with it.." Viola hisses. "Whilst you _can_ live at all."

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

The sunlight streams into the window. It catches my eyes, but I don't want to wake up just yet. I want to stay in my semi-dream where I can just imagine being back in Six, messing and joking about with my brothers over pointless crap. Staring down the plastic bitches at my school, the ones that think they're better than I could ever be.

"Ryder, it's time to get up!" I hear Polo call. "Halston, you too!"

I hear Halston complain, and for once, I agree with him. We're being sent off to our death in a matter of hours. Surely we should be allowed to sleep in and enjoy as much comfort as possible, before sleeping on floors, holding knives and fighting to survive.

My door swings open, Polo and our escort standing there, looking fiery. How amusing.

"Ryder, it's time to get up and have breakfast. It could be your _last_ solid food for days."

"Give me five more minutes."

"No."

I toss the cover off me, flinging my legs to the floor. "Please, I'm their_ precious_ District Six female tribute. It's not like they can start _without_ me, can they?"

The escort frowns, whereas I can see the ghost of a smile on Polo's face. She enjoys my attitude. Good, because I don't plan on changing for anyone or anything. Unlike some of these others, playing it up to the cameras and audience for sponsors, I don't need it. Sure, I'm not some Career trained to do the best. But I'm a fighter and fighting is what I will do.

After getting dressed in some plain clothes, I step out the room for breakfast.

"Where's Halston?" I ask Polo, who only shrugs.

"Taking his time."

"Doesn't surprise me," I scoff. "Probably paranoid and thinking we're plotting against him."

Polo looks at me with such bewilderment, I have to bite down on my bottom lip just not to laugh right in her face, no matter how much I respect and tolerate her.

"I heard him talking to himself last night, just before bed. I think the nut has finally cracked."

"Talking to yourself doesn't make you paranoid, Ry."

"Oh, but it does when you're arguing with yourself as to whether your mentor and district partner are out to get out. That your district rigged the reapings to get with you. Trust me Polo, Halston has finally lost the _entire_ plot."

Polo looks at me one more time with the same bewilderment, but rather than repeat myself, I shake my head and eat my toast. I don't want to waste my energy on talking. Not when I plan on fighting for my life.

* * *

**Tasi Merkava.**

I walk into the dining room, noticing Jocelyn, Oakley and Woods, all sat around the table, talking quietly. Woods seems too quiet, which worries me slightly, but then it could be the food and how she is such a snob over it.

"Morning." I say as I take my seat.

Oakley and Jocelyn only nod, whereas Woods seems to perk up slightly.

"How was your sleep?" Woods asks, smiling softly.

"It was okay, I guess," I lightly chortle. "I had a dream about my dog, Hope."

"Awh," Woods gushes. "I didn't know you had a dog."

"She's the only real family I have left. I mean, I have my adopted father and everything, but I dunno, something about Hope reminds me of my old life, well, the good parts at least.

Woods smiles again, spooning some cereal into her mouth. I can't help but realise something. Hope has always been my connection to my past life, reminding me of the good things even though she was never around. That was before being adopted. With Woods, it's similar. She's my connection to my life before my reaping, reminding me that in all fairness, it's been pretty great up until that day.

And even then, I got to meet Woods, a girl who strangely enough, I think I like a_ lot_ more than I should. If I plan on returning home.

"Once breakfast is over, you guys have to go and get changed into your uniforms." Jocelyn says quietly.

I look up, confused. I never really watched the Games, but I know that much that tributes put their uniforms on inside the Launch Room, before going up. I look at Woods, who has the same look on her face. What are they up too?

"Why now? Why not in the Launch Room?"

"Cause you won't be going to the Launch Room this year," Oakley mentions and I can see the colour from Jocelyn's face drain. "They want you ready here instead."

I go to question it, only looking at Woods and realising that maybe it's best not to think about it to much. If I did, I'd probably make myself more nervous over something that could simply be superstition. Before my mind can register it, Woods has grabbed my hand across the table, wrapping hers underneath it.

"Tasi, I know what's going to happen."

"Wh-" I go to reply, but she quickly cuts me off.

"You're going to want to proect me. But trust me, I can definitely look after myself. You won't need to fight for me,_ I_ can do it myself."

I nod, knowing that nobody can win and argument with Woods. It's something she's great at. And that's why I think I love her.

* * *

**Denim Weavan.**

"I _don't_ understand it."

I look at my stylist, Hattie, confused. I'm confused about the fact that I'm being forced into my death dress before I even reach the Launch Room. I'm confused as to what the hell the uniform has to do with the arena, seeing as it doesn't give too much help, and I'm more than confused as to what the fuck the arena even is.

All I know is, it is going to be a brutal, rough and bloody playground. That's why they wanted us to learn survival skills.

"Well?"

Hattie circles me, like I'm an exhibition, one hand on hip and other hand on her chin.

"Well, the material is simple black cotton. Absorbs heat very well, but prone to sweating. Will definitely cling to your skin a bit."

That explains that part. This all-in-one body suit, pure black, stretching down my legs, up my body and down my arms only a little bit like a t-shirt. Basically, the only skin on show is my head, neck, arms and hands.

"The boots have treds on the bottom. So I'm _guessing_ the arena will have some type of rocky, earth-like substance at some point. The grip on the bottom of your boots are perfect for running along jagged ground, but are quite chunky and heavy, so I'm guessing there will be no real wildlife out there or hunting will be awful to accomplish."

I nod, looking back in the mirror. The boots are quite comfy, surprisingly. Usually the Gamemakers just like to watch us suffer. This year, we're getting treated to all the nice stuff. As Hattie continues to circle me, I think of what could be in store. Blood mixing with dirt. Heads being smashed against the ground. Earthquakes. Rocks. Landslides.

I was right. It will be _complete_ carnage.

"What about this?" I say, plucking at the yellow belt surrounding my waist with my toffee-coloured gloves. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I'm very much dressed like a miner of some sort.

"Oh, well this I know about," Hattie smiles. "That belt is simply for holding your possible weapons and such. Each little hook can hold something. But that's not all. That thing in the middle is a flashlight. By tapping the center like this, it turns on. Repeat the action to turn it off."

As her hand slams against the light, she was right. A dim, amber light glows from the source, only lighting a few inches in the distance.

"Surely you shouldn't be telling me this."

"I've been requested, actually." Hattie replies.

"What?" That confuses me. Requested to tell the tributes the secret of their uniform? Normally, they like to watch the dumb ones die before they realise.

"From President Snow himself. He wanted the tributes to know _all_ about their belts, at the very least."

* * *

**Veena Avery.**

Wearing my uniform, I climb the stairs to the roof, knowing my hovercraft will be waiting for me. I can't fight back the constant knots and twists in my stomach, playing around with my breakfast. I knew this day would come eventually since the reaping. I was just hoping, in a weird sense, that it would never arrive.

But most of us are most likely feeling like that.

"Why isn't Rye with us?" I ask Wheat, noticing him just slightly in front of me.

"Him and Victory are going up just after us. We've been told to get you both up here separately."

"What do you mean?"

Wheat sighs, pushing the door to the roof open. Then it hits me. Something is up, there must be a twist. Me and Rye not being together at the same time? Needing to go up separately? The Gamemakers must have something new installed for us. Either that or they just want me to feel more alone than ever. Punish me, as if sending me to my possible death isn't enough.

From what I can see, there are tons of hovercrafts. You never get to see this part on the TV sets back in Nine, but I'm pretty sure that one could carry the entire collection of tributes. As Wheat talks with an attendant, I count the many heavily armed vehicles I can see. 24. One for each? That doesn't make much sense.

Wheat walks back, defeated. He points to a hovercraft in the corner, waiting.

"There's yours. No-one can come with you. There's no Launch Room, so, eat up on the plane. Enjoy every bite of food you get because you don't even know if you can get anything in this arena that's so amazing this year. Stick with your alliance, avoid the Cornucopia, find water and just hide. Don't hunt, hide. You know the game hide and seek? Play that. It could help."

His sarcasm lightens me a little, but I still can't push away the looming nerves. I need Rye and Everest and Demetria.

I _doubt_ I could do this alone. But I don't have a choice.

Wheat gives me a final hug before pushing me towards the hovercraft, smiling sadly as he lets go. I wonder if that is the price to pay for winning. Sending other kids into the same position that you were in.

The door opens, I climb in and suddenly, it closes and all I feel to burst into tears.

I'm alone.

Through the small window, I can barely see anything. But I can make out the girls from One and Six and the boys from Two and Twelve. Must be a tribute from every district up here at a time.

The engine roars. I'm not ready.

Someone walks in and hands me a bowl of soup. My last supper. But as I try to eat some of it, I can't stop my body from shaking.

I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm not ready.

But I don't have a choice. I need to land, wait, run and find my friends.

That's the plan.

* * *

**Demetria Greene.**

I sit back against the seat, trying to enjoy what little time I have left. I should be scared, I should be worried that my life could be over in a matter of seconds. That I might never return to Ten.

And yet, none of that crosses my mind. There's no point dwelling on it. That won't get you anywhere.

You have to be ready, be a fighter and more importantly, try. I'm not giving up. As long as I believe I can win, then I have just as good of chance as everyone else. I mean, I pulled a 7. I don't whether that makes me a target or a threat, but either way, it shows the others that I don't plan on backing down.

I _will_ fight.

"Excuse me, but are you finished with your meal?"

I look up at the attendant, noticing she looks barely older than me. And yet, her presence furiates me. Then, it spills from my mouth.

"No, I'm not finished with my meal. I want to eat _all_ of it and enjoy it because unlike you, working on this fancy hovercraft, I'm going into an arena with 23 other kids to kill. To _kill_ other children for my own safety, something I shouldn't have to fight for seeing as I didn't start the stupid rebellion all those years ago! So no, I'm not finished with my meal and if you would, please_ fuck_ off."

She looks stunned, I feel guilty but we leave it at that. She walks away. I curl my fingers around the spoon, pulling up some soup and sipping it.

I didn't mean to go off, but when someone who looks the same age as you and yet, they're safe whereas you're in danger? It pisses me off just a little bit.

I look around the hovercraft, taking in my final sights before I'm faced with whatever this arena holds. But all I can think about is Rye and Vee and Ev. I shouldn't, because really, I need to win and they need to die for that. Yet, I can't help but feel them as friends. But that doesn't take away the situation. They _still_ need to die.

I just won't be the one to do it.

* * *

**Crew Willow.**

I feel the engine of the hovercraft slowing down. It means we're coming to a stop. But Seeder said there was no Launch Room? The attendant smiles at me, which I respond. People must think I'm weird, seeming so chirpy for my condition.

But they don't need to worry. I'm only here to make my mommy and siblings proud.

"We've arrived."

I nod, drinking the last part of my water. It's time. It's going to be tough, but with Tasi and Woods and Battery, I _can_ do it. I smile as I stand up, moving over to the lady stood by the door.

"So if there _isn't_ a Launch Room, where we stopping?"

She looks at me with such sadness, she reminds me of Seeder. The way they feel pity towards me. Then I think about mommy and how she would feel.

"We're stopping, but we're not going to land."

I don't get it. We're stopping but not landing? So we're stopping in the air?

"Can you please stand against the wall and hold onto the ropes of the ladder?"

"Why, what's going on?"

"You're being dropped into the arena. You won't be rising, but descending."

My stomach twists into a tight knot. I've never been that great with heights. It was okay getting on the hovercraft because I could just walk on. Although Seeder said that it was different that there was no ladder this year. So I felt safe. And now, I'm being dropped down on a ladder. My hands wrap around the rope so tight, I can feel a slight burn. I squeeze my eyes shut, picturing District Eleven and it's orchards and birds and sun and smell of fruits.

I _just_ wanna go home, back to mommy. But I have to be brave and make her proud.

Soon, my hand eases but it feels locked.

"What's going on now?"

"Your hands are frozen in place. Do the same with your legs, sweetheart," I do as she says. "In a minute or two, the floor will drop and you'll be lowered onto your platform."

Fear rises inside of me, but before I can ask her if I'll be safe, the floor opens up. Wind comes inside, blowing my hair and instantly, my heart flies to my throat as the ladder begins to drop down into the sky.

* * *

**Branton Callahan.**

My knuckles ache as I'm lowered. My eyes are smothered by the sight of the blistering sun, my body quickly losing breath as the wind climbs inside. As I peel my eyes open, I notice the many hovercrafts in the air, piercing the clouds in the sky.

Then I notice my new home. Rock. Masses and masses of rock, all piled on top of each other, stretching out for miles and miles. That explains the boots and uniform, but the flashlight belt? As I continue to lower down slowly, the hiss of the engine that holds my ladder, I notice one ladder extremely close to me. Buzz Cut from Six. She doesn't look that fazed by the sighting, in fact, if I didn't know any better, I swear I can see the ghost of a smile on her face.

My eyes flitter around, noticing that everyone is pretty much dropping down in pairs. A bit of distance between each pair. Me and her. Only a short distance to my right, I can see Woods, paired up with the guy from Two.

I follow the circle of us all lowering, reading everyone's expressions. Satisfaction. Scared. Indifferent. Terrified. Numb.

It varies. Me? I _don't_ know. Maybe right now isn't the greatest of times to crack a joke about my impending doom, not that anyone would hear me if I did.

Then her hair catches my eye. Fiery red, looking like flames dancing as the wind gently brushes it. She's being lowered down with shortstuff from Eight, and surprisingly, not all that far from me. Between me and her, there are only two pairs of ladders.

The first being psycho boy from Four and the girl from Nine. Then the other has pretty boy from One and just as psycho girl from Eleven.

She's not that far away. I can reach her. I can get a backpack, a weapon and then reach her.

But as we lower, I notice something. The rock is higher up compared to the rock around the Cornucopia. It's more rugged and looks hard to run on. That scares me. Instantly, I snap my head and eyes in Blaize's direction, praying she sees me. She does.

I try to mime something at her, but as we continue to lower at a painfully slow pace, I doubt she can read my lips.

Then, fear sinks in properly. Mr. Positive has been reduce to just like all the other, negative suckers in these Games.

My feet click onto the plate, the electric current on the ladder releasing my body. Then, it vanishes into thin air. I turn around, daring not to move. To my right, in the big distance between me and Woods, I notice the large tunnel behind us, the stone walls towering so high, you couldn't climb it. Then it makes sense. Tunnels. Possibly mines? Twelve.

I smile to myself, realising that this arena was made for people from Twelve. Or at least _benefit_ us.

I turn back again, noticing that the distance between me and Buzz Cut is a lot shorter than me and Woods. It's meant for pairs.

The golden horn shimmers underneath the sun, waves of light rolling over the hardened surface, making it seem alive. Supplies and items and weapons spill from it, looking so bountiful. Then, I smirk when I notice the odd water bottle, knife, backpack, loaf of bread just laying there on the floor, spread around the ground between the plates and the Cornucopia. It's their way of telling us that the best items are at the Cornucopia. They want their bloodbath.

Like hell will I attempt the Cornucopia. Not when the simple supplies I can live on are only a few centimetres from my feet.

Then, Cladius' voice booms and my heart quickens.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fortieth Hunger Games begin!"_

* * *

**Eyes Open by Taylor Swift.**

**The blog, where you can see everything, is this - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified on the blog, as well as their final position in the Games.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

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**Pick your 6 favourite tributes! None can be your own. If you pick your own tribute, I'll put the points on someone else I see fit. You are more than welcome to get friends and everything to vote for your tribute, if you wish. Votes will only be accepted through a review. PM me it and I'll change it because I'm mean like that. Unless your reason is valid. You've been warned.**

**Also, even if you don't have a tribute, you're more than welcome in voting. It's a free for all.**


	8. Dog Days Are Over

_Run fast for your mother, run fast for your father,  
Run for your children, for your sisters and brothers.  
Leave all your love and your longing behind,  
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive._

_The dog days are over,_  
_The dog days are done._  
_Can you hear the horses?_  
_'Cause here they come._

_The dog days are over,_  
_The dog days are done._  
_The horses are coming,_  
_So you better run._

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

_60...50...40..._

Looking around, I can tell everyone is caught off-guard. I mean, it's pretty impressive, using tunnels. Unless we're supposed to climb, but really, the stone walls look as if you're not supposed to climb them. My eyes look at the person closest to me, on my right. The boy from Nine. He doesn't look too fazed by the arena, but at the same time, he's never exactly caught my attention before. He's part of that 9/10 alliance. The ones that like to make knots and build fires. Bloodbaths, the _lot_ of them. They've got no chance.

_30..._

I quickly realise I need to find my so-called alliance. 4 plates to my right is Nico, then there is the girl from Nine. She's stuck between Nico and Troy. How unlucky, an egotistical maniac and an aggressive and mentally unstable sociopath. She has no chance, the poor girl. Not far from them is Kaden, looking proud as ever, towering over Seven, whose stood next to him just a little more shaky than she stood. Maybe it's his presence.

Nerine isn't far on my left, but Diamond, I can't see. She must be almost directly opposite me. I can't help but feel this is perfect. All the Careers, spaced out, surrounding the Cornucopia. It's like they're encouraging us to just take it and kill all the others.

But I get it.

Careers are the most desirable for Victors. Gives the Capitol a good image. Those who can woo crowds and kill like they have no hearts.

_20...10..._

The tunnels make me wonder, though. The only thing I can think about is the dark. Those tunnels could be pitch black. My heart races a little, thudding against my chest. I've _never_ been good with the dark. All those days spent inside the box room, being left there alone because I missed one target. My knife was out my centimetres. I didn't do it quick enough. That's the life of a Two Career. Pain, darkness, torture and starvation. That's what makes us who we are. That is why we volunteer. To get away, win and live a life away from being nothing more than a simple, blamed trainee who gets punished because they aren't _perfect_.

But those tunnels could hold anything. Anything.

And that's what worries me.

_0..._

The gong sounds, and instantly, chaos erupts. Without even thinking, I power off my plate, sprinting straight towards the Cornucopia, it's mouth facing me. I can see the metallic glimmer of knives. Perfect. I take a second, whilst running, to look around. Everyone has moved. Nearly everyone is running forward. The only idiot who isn't is the boy from Eight. He grabs a small, orange backpack and darts into the tunnel behind him.

I'm the first to reach the Cornucopia, but I can feel my heart hammering now. It's always been a problem. But I've never been allowed to let it overpower me. If it ever did, box and darkness were my punishment.

I bend, scooping up the weapons that are practically an extension of my fingers. Quickly, I dart around, letting one fly straight out of my hand, whistling through the air. The boy from Five doesn't have any time to react. It lands straight into his chest. I watch, breathing fast, as a small trickle of blood slips past his lips, tears welling up in his eyes. I'm sorry, shrimp, but you never did stand a chance. Not against me, anyway. His body falls, barely off the platform and crumples to the floor.

Knives in hand, I turn around, wanting to find more victims or more importantly, Six. But I can't see her in the chaos.

"Did you get one?"

I turn, smiling at Kaden, noticing his hand is wrapped around an axe.

"Boy from Five. Didn't get the chance to react."

"Poor kid, oh well, better you than me." Kaden smirks, lifting his axe to show it off. If it's an act of intimidation, it isn't working.

"Clearly."

Soon, Nerine joins us, her fragile hands clenching a trident. Like she can actually use that.

"So, what we doing now?" Nerine breathes.

"Having fun." Kaden smiles sadistically, and instantly, he runs off, looking for prey.

I turn to Nerine, also smiling. Oh how easy it would be to quickly knock her over and run my blade across her flesh, painting a red smile. But oh no, it wouldn't be right to break the alliance straightaway. It's coming, though, you wait.

"You," I point to Nerine, ignoring the chaos. No-one is really bothering to come close to the Cornucopia, anyway. "Guard this and stab anyone who comes anywhere near it. If you fail, I promise this knife will be going_ straight_ through your eye, got it?"

She nods, slightly shaken.

"Good, now, be back in a minute. Time to cut the numbers down.. _Literally_."

* * *

**Nerine Monroe.**

Camila, knives gripped in both hands, runs off into the area. I can't help but feel more and more like they will turn on me. I thought I proved my worth, with the training and score, but clearly that isn't enough. Not when they got 9, 10 and 11.

And me with a 7.

I scan the area, trident pulled closed to my body. I can't tell whose run off into the tunnels and whose stayed behind. All I know is, Alex is gone. He took off the minute the gong rung out. Grabbed the small backpack at his feet and sprinted, moving faster than I've seen anyone. I close my eyes for a split second, ignoring the noise of footsteps and earth crunching, just trying to focus. Or get rid of the memory.

When our plates clicked in, I couldn't help but notice the boy from Five stood next to me, tears rolling down his face quickly. He looked so sad, I just wanted to protect him. Make sure he was okay. Then, Camila grabs a knife and before I know it, it's spinning in our direction.

At first, I thought it was for me. I was sure it was for me, seeing as they just want rid of me. Then, I heard the sickening slice of metal carving through skin, Buzz's weak cry and his body falling. Blood poured from the harsh hole in his neck, staining the earth as he died.

It's something I'm never going to forget, no matter what.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I think about is checking out our supplies. Boxes and crates and backpacks, stacked up high. Weapons spilling out, the smell of food wavering through the air. The smell reminds me of the Capitol, then, the salty air and fish in Four. But it's all gone when I hear another scream that seems to be louder than all the others.

Quickly, I sprint to the other side of the Cornucopia, noticing the girl from Five, the other 13 year old. Her head is being held by Diamond, body pressed up against the golden skin. She's screaming, pleading, begging for mercy. And Diamond isn't showing _any_ of it. She looks serious, determined, through her beautiful skin and gorgeous hair. She leans forward, and although it's a whisper, I can still hear it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do what I have to do. I'm a Victor and you are simply a bloodbath casualty."

Viola only whimpers more to this, glassy tears streaming her reddened face.

Then, in one swift movement, her hands snap Viola's neck to the side. She faces me and I can see every colour, every fibre of life within the little girl just drain away. Gone. Diamond lets go and her tiny body drops to the floor. It lays there, dead, looking at me with such sorrow, it makes me want to cry. Her skin pales, eyes go black and lips turn blue.

Dead. Another one dead.

She looks peaceful, if it weren't for the vibrant pink mark scratched across her neck from the snap.

"What you looking at?" Diamond sneers, and instantly, I look away. Another young kid, slaughtered.

Diamond walks past me, knocking her shoulder into mine. No heart, nothing. She came here to win, just like Troy and Nico and Camila and Kaden. That's why they volunteered. They wanted to win and nothing more. They don't care about the innocent lives being taken away.

They just want their fame and money and fans and popularity. Some like Diamond have a name to live up too.

Looking out on the field, all I can see is violence. But these are the Hunger Games, and me, I'm just another pawn to_ their_ game.

* * *

**Troy Reed.**

Spear clutched in hand, I smirk. I'm in my element. My playground. Screw toys for children, all I need to enjoy myself is a weapon and a few targets. That'll suffice. I can imagine the blood splattering the against the brown land, marking it forever. Metal teeth eating up the dead children, beaten, bloodied, carved, scratched, ripped to shreds.

It's like a dream compared to these children's nightmares.

The pair from Five are gone. Everyone is running, fighting, trying to grab what they can. I can see Diamond in a physical fight with the girl from Eleven. Kicking and punching, both taking several blows. Cat fight, how amusing. If Eleven kills Diamond, that's one less of my entertainment for later and we can't have that. Killing reaped children and killing volunteers are two different things, and for me, provide two different types of pleasure.

I run over without thinking, letting the spear slide straight from my hand. It flies, spins but before it can hit, she notices. Eleven dodges just in time, the arrow spiking the ground just between Diamond and her. She looks annoyed, grabs her backpack and runs for the tunnel where her from Eight is standing.

"I had her. I could have done it myself." Diamond growls when I approach her.

"Someone needs to go back in their cage," I smirk. "Besides, you _didn't_ have her. Hate to say it, beautiful, but she was kicking your _ass_."

"Was not."

"Yeah, she kinda was. If I didn't throw that spear, she would have snapped your neck like a twig."

"Like I done to Five?"

"Well done, you managed to kill a 13 year old. Aren't you the soldier."

"Watch yourself you little psycho, the Capitol want perfection and you certaintly aren't it. Wouldn't be surprised if they sent some mutts on you soon enough."

"What are you on about? I'm looking at a mutt right now."

Her eyes flare into disgust, whilst me, I no doubt look amused. So easy to piss girls off. Mom was the same, when I used to threaten to pull her hair back and yank her scalp off. She didn't find it funny, either. Just seems like people can't take jokes nowadays.

Diamond slams into me with her shoulder, but really, she's not worth my time now. I'll make sure to do her make-up properly later on. With my spear, painting her porcelain skin with her own blood, scarring that so-called perfection she claims she has. It'll be all too_ easy_, I'll no doubt laugh throughout the whole time. Same goes with the others. I notice Nerine, stood there near the Cornucopia. Not exactly the greatest of bodyguard, and hey, she isn't exactly going to kill like the rest of us.

Nico is fighting with the boy from Twelve. Not really fighting, seeing as quickly, the redhead runs in and pushes her hands out, easily knocking Nico back. The boy scoops up a backpack and Nico's knife, following the girl into the tunnel. He stands up, brushes his uniform and looks absolutely beyond pissed. Anger flushes his face, turning it red. Then, he notices me and I can't help but take this moment and run with it.

"Hey Nico, it's not exactly great getting beaten up by a girl!"

"Why don't you fuck off!" he shouts back, quickly running back to the Cornucopia and grabbing a thin sword.

I smirk, noticing something catch my eye. Her. Three. She quickly moves over to the tunnel near her, ducking in, praying that no-one has seen her. I have, though and shit is about to go down.

Yanking my spear from the ground, I rest it in my hand and stalk over. Time for the show.

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

Tasi quickly grabs something off the floor, a hatchet I think, then immediately picks up poor Crew, whose been stood on his platform, but thankfully, no-one has taken notice off him. He runs towards Woods, who is quite some distance away from them, battling off the boy from Two. She's managing to avoid his hits, but not delivering her own.

Unlike the others, they made sure to split our alliance up. Woods was the furthest away, but for some reason, ignoring Tasi, she ran straight into the heat of things.

She got a nice punch to the face from Camila, but luckily, managed to knock her in her chest long enough to make a run, backpack in hand, only to run straight into Kaden.

Inside the tunnel, where I was told by Tasi to go too, you can hear the faint sound of water dripping against the ground. The echoes and hollows. I can ever hear the footsteps of some tributes, running in deep to avoid the carnage.

I don't know what to do, though. Everything is rushing by, my mind can't process. I can already see two dead bodies, both little kids.

Then, something catches my eye. Well, my ear. A roaring sound, but not animal. Definitely human and when I look at, I can see who. Halston. He looks enraged, a metal pipe wrapped in his hands as he runs at his district partner, Ryder, who isn't far from me. Only a few feet. She doesn't flinch. Nor run or look shocked or nothing. She simple stands there, ready for it. But she's too quick.

As Halston raises his weapon and brings it down with such force, Ryder sidesteps out the way, managing to deliver a kick to the back of his knee. Halston falls down, and before he can even process it all, Ryder pulls a knife from her boot and slices it across his neck.

I hear his gargle, blood filling his throat. The sun shines down on him, blood droplets staining the earth, a sinister red smile on his neck. His body crumples, and quickly, Ryder stands up, proud. She picks up the pipe and looks straight at me. For a moment, I think she's going to take me out next like she did her district partner. But instead, she smirks and nods, running off into the nearby tunnel without a second thought. Just like that, she took a life and didn't think twice.

Then, I see Glitch, running towards me. His face is pained, and when I notice his hand holding onto his side and the blood oozing from it, I know he's been hit. My face instantly pales.

"Glitch, what happened?"

"Boy from One. He got a fair shot with me on his sword. Guess Careers aren't brutal for _nothing_."

His voice is breaking. I pull him into the tunnel slightly, wanting to check his wound. "You can outlast it, definitely."

"You don't know anything about first aid, Battery," Glitch laughs, but it's all choked and sounds more like a whisper. "I could be dying and you wouldn't know until I stop breathing."

He's right. I have no clue whatsoever. But I'm going to try for Glitch.

"Look, you're right, but I could try something.. Anything, to, you know, try and stop the blood."

I bend down and smile, noticing that Glitch seems to be doing the same. But as I take a glance around him, I can see Troy heading straight towards us. Before I can even scream, nudge or push Glitch to the side, I see his spear tearing through the air.

The next minute I know, I hear a yell and can see the spear just above my head, skewered through Glitch's stomach. Blood drips down, some falling into my hair and without thinking, I push myself backwards, hands being scratched by the ground.

My eyes find Glitch's, noticing the life slowly draining from them. He smiles, weakly, dropping to his knees and falling to the ground, the spear tearing through his body just a bit more. Blood pools on the ground, making tiny rivers that extend along the brown canvas.

I don't think after that. I scramble to my feet, running into the tunnel, the last image being Troy running towards Glitch's body with anger and Glitch's smile, despite dying. My hands scramble into the pocket of my uniform, finding the button. I run my finger along it, knowing that it's what I have to remember Glitch and his kindness.

The _only_ thing I have to remember him.

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

I watch as Troy kills the boy from Three, his body falling to the ground. He yanks his spear out, angry, and for a moment, debates on whether or not to chase after the tribute he was planning on killing. But he doesn't. Instead, he turns around, walking casually over to the Cornucopia.

But my luck hasn't been that great.

Every tribute seemed to scramble for anything they could get and then dash into the tunnels with their alliance. I walk over to the Cornucopia, following Troy and dragging my sword along the ground. Fuck. I didn't get anyone, nothing, not one single pathetic bloodbath. But Troy, Camila and Diamond all got a shot. The only thing that satisfies me is Kaden not getting a kill either, but then again, I can almost hear the whole Capitol crying out for more blood. They wanted tons dead, they probably didn't expect nearly all the tributes to run out on their first shot.

Then again, we aren't exactly the greatest of Careers. Can't even send orders around, seeing as we all just do our own things.

Disorganised.

"Is that everyone?" Kaden asks, out of breath and holding the axe close to his body.

"Yeah," Camila smiles her wicked, killing smile. "But that's okay. It means more to hunt later on."

"But what about the Cornucopia? Someone has to look after it." Nerine quips in.

Then, I can see she regrets uttering a word. Everyone's eyes fall back her coldly.

"Well, how about the actual Careers, which is us, go out and hunt whilst the reaped stay here and play house." Troy sneers.

"I am as much of a Career as you."

"Really? And how many did you kill, Nerine?"

"You can't use that against me. Nico and Kaden didn't get anybody."

I feel the flush of shame paint my face. She's right, I didn't get any and neither did Kaden. But I have a reputation to upheld. I need to do myself proud, otherwise, volunteering would have been the most pointless thing ever to do. Kaden glares at her, but just like the others, dismisses her remark as she isn't as great as us.

"As Troy said, you look after the stuff whilst the rest of us hunt. Troy can stay with you, actually, seeing as I don't feel like babysitting." Kaden smirks.

Then, I see a similar flush on Troy's face, only his is full of anger and hatred.

"Like fuck am I staying when I can go out there and kill as many of those pathetic tributes as I want."

"You'll do as you say otherwise you'll find an axe in your chest sooner than you'd like, got it?"

But before Troy has a word to stay, I hear the obvious sounds of boots crunching against the ground. We all spin around, noticing on the other side of the Cornucopia, the girl from Seven has stupidly ran towards us to grab some supplies, hatchet in hand. Like that'll save you sweetie. I'm the first to whip around, bringing forth my sword. She notices me, though, and manages to just slide out the way, tripping over her own feet and falling to the ground.

"Bit stupid, aren't we Seven? All the smell of trees numbed your brain cells?"

She scoffs. Scoffs? Reckless and stupid. "Same can be said about you and your pretty, shiny objects back in One."

I flash red, bring my sword and swing it back down, harder than ever. My eyes close together, I hear muffled footsteps, but I still slam my sword into the girl. Only, as I open my eyes, it's not the girl I've hit. It's her ridiculous district partner. The guy who got the 7.

My sword is jammed into his shoulder blade, blood spilling over the silver surface. She screams as he falls down next to her groaning, clutching his wound.

"Well that was stupid," I smirk, knowing I've managed to take out big competition. Even better than some stupid kid. "Sorry, Seven, but at least your _girlfriend_ can live."

With that, I drive my sword one last time into his gut for good measure, a fair amount of the scarlet liquid splashing across her face. She scrambles to her feet, bringing her weapon up and runs. Leaving him behind. But it's okay, he just lays there, dead.

"So pretty boy made a kill," Troy remarks, crossing his arms, spear still in hand. "I'm surprised you didn't squeal from getting dirty."

I look and smile, realising that just as I thought, I'd like this. "Well, we're_ all_ full of surprises."

* * *

**Everest Sawyer.**

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Five cannons sound. The haunting noise of the water dripping against the ground echoes around the room, leaving the place feel more scary than I ever imagined. With each step I take, all I'm thankful is that we all survived. Me, Rye, Veena and Demetria.

I don't know how we done it, but we did. The minute I clicked into place, I knew both Demetria and Rye were only a few plates away. Veena was on the other side, blocked by the golden horn. The gong sounded and we just ran forward. I grabbed up a set of knives, Dem got a bag and Rye ran around the perimeter, finding Veena and pulling her along with the rest of us. But Demetria was right. Me and her got supplies whilst Rye collected Veena. Strong and weak.

"Where do you think all this leads?" Veena says, dragging her fingers lightly against the stone walls of the tunnels.

"I'm not sure, but let's find out." Demetria replies, up front, knife in hand.

"We gotta be careful though, who knows what is around the corner."

"Yeah and we will. Don't worry, Vee, we got this covered. Just make sure to keep your eyes forward and ears open."

As the girls pull up front, I can feel myself slowly down. My limp. Whilst it's pretty much healed, the problem will never go away. It'll continue to bother me for the rest of my life. Then, I notice Rye slowly down also, squinting his eyes as if sunlight is pouring through.

"You okay?" I ask him.

He nods, smiling. "Just another migraine. Stupid things, like I need them now."

"Told you about the orange juice. Should have listened to me."

Rye laughs a breathy laugh, playing with the backpack in his hands. "Not like I can get some now."

"Doesn't hide the fact that I was right."

"Show off."

"Not really." I smirk, knocking him slightly, him staggering to the side.

Bit by bit, Demetria and Veena go further in front, me slowly down because of my leg and Rye doing that to keep me company. He says it's because as an alliance, we don't leave each other behind. But I think it's for another reason at least.

Soon enough, we find a spot to set up camp. You can't tell when it's day or night, because there is no sign of the sun. Instead, the only light we do have is the eeriy, amber glow from the lights, planted into the stone walls. Quickly, Veena puts her fire making skills to good use and creates the flames, using nothing but more weeds growing inside the tunnels and a box of matches from the backpack.

Besides matches, we have 2 bottles of full water, some apples and a sleeping bag. After eating the apples, Demetria rolls out the bag.

"Rye, do you and Veena wanna use it first whilst me and Everest stay on watch?"

Rye takes another bite from his apple, looking slightly sad before swallowing. He takes a moment to think, before deciding. "No, it's okay. Ladies first."

Demetria smiles and climbs aboard, Veena in pursuit and rolling on her side. Both girls quickly fall asleep. I move over to the edge of the tunnel, sitting down and leaning my back against the wall. Rye watches me, from my side, placing his apple down and getting up slowly.

"Where you going?"

"To come sit with you?" Rye replies, raising his eyebrow.

I nod, wrapping my arms around my knees as Rye takes his seat right next to me, bodies only slightly touching. We don't speak, just enjoy the temporary quiet and comfort of each other's presence. Soon, though, the sound of the girls' breathing lulls me into a slumber.

When I wake up, after about an hour, I notice Dem and Vee still asleep. Rye is too, his head resting on my shoulder and apparently, my head on top of his. My vision is blurred, but something catches my eye. The lights flickering. The amber glow grows brighter than goes almost pitch black, like it's dying. I focus on it for a few moments, then, my heart lurches. Down the tunnel, darkness looms as the lights begin to completely shut off. One by one. Heading _towards_ us.

"Get up!" I shout.

Instantly, Rye jerks awake, followed by Demetria and Veena. But it's too late. Darkness swamps us as the lights completely die away. Everything falls silent. All I can hear is the sound of our breathing, combined with a few pounding heartbeats.

Then it happens.

A _rumble_.

* * *

**Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine.**

**I've deleted the website and created a simple, easy to use blog instead. To find it, go to - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done.**

**Buzz Alloy, District Five.**

**Viola Grimm, District Five.**

**Halston Salvador, District Six.**

**Glitch Mayhew, District Three.**

**Tasi Merkava, District Seven.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. **

**As we all know, this story got deleted. Which means that, in many cases, voting was lost before I could tally it up. That being said, under the circumstances, I shall do a one-time thing. Submitters that vote on the previous chapters that were lost, get 20 points each for their tribute per review.**

**Basically, go back and give me 5 reviews for the 5 individual chapters with 6 tribute names and your tribute will get 100 points. I lost track off voting because of this, that, and I feel bad for the delayed wait on your bloodbath. You don't need to give me reasons, just the names and points. Nothing more. It's simple, really, and will take you around 5 minutes to do.**

**Then, vote this chapter!**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

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**Voting has now changed since the Games have begun. You have to vote for 4 tributes only. This time round, you may vote for your own tribute. Again, votes in PM will be ignored and I will change it. Votes can only be through a review. I have decided that from now on, you must state a reason as to why you've voted for this tribute. If you don't, points will be deducted from your tribute.**


	9. Runaway

_Face down; this is where it leads you - too far._  
_Buried covered now, you'll find peace - in the earth aground._  
_Stop now, there's no point in breathing - it's not allowed._  
_On the surface, how can you find - reason to move on?_

_Until then you can runaway._  
_Do your best to hide your face._  
_And oh I know you best;_  
_I know you get what you get _  
_you get what you deserve._

_Hush now, don't say a word - it's out in the open,_  
_And tell me how can you deal with all this weight?_

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

"Run!"

I react to the noise, Everest's voice. But I don't know where he is. Darkness smothers the area, making everything impossibly dark. I can't see a thing, and more importantly, I dare not speak. It could be anything and I don't want to alert it. Keeping quiet means keeping safe. But Everest doesn't think that.

"I said run!"

The rumble noise grows in pitch, sounding more and more like a scraping sound of metal on metal. I panic in the darkness, flinging my arms in every direction, hoping to catch onto someone. Then, someone does respond. They grab my hand, and by the touch, I can tell it's not a girl. Everest. He doesn't say anything, instead, we all just seem to make different noises of panic. My feet begin to run forward, following my hand that's being pulled along my Everest.

"Demetria, your flashlight!" Everest shouts.

Demetria doesn't respond, though. We continue to scramble, the noise following us like bees to flowers. Everything seems to speed and blur, my mind spinning and my stomach knotting. Nerves build up, then suddenly, it all starts to happen. A loud boom echoes through the tunnel, and quickly, I find my legs taken away, my body hurtling towards the floor.

I land awkwardly, chest first, knocking the wind out of me. Everest falls just in front, my hand still clenched in his. Veena and Demetria fall, I'm guessing, from the sounds of multiple bodies hitting the floor.

Smoke fills the air, seeping into my lungs. I splutter, finding my body closing for a second. Everything tightens.

As the dust settles, I hear Everest groan. Hauling myself up, I pry my hand from his, realising that his grip was a bit tight. Sitting on my knees, I look out into the darkness. Everest's message about the flashlight clicks in my mind. I pat the center of my belt, watching the amber glow dimly light in front of me. I can see Everest, sprawled out on the cold, rock floor. Just in front is Veena, followed by Demetria, who seems a little bit further in front.

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," Veena responds. "I'm good. Demetria?"

Demetria groans in response and I notice her shadow grow, meaning she's getting up. Then, the lights in the tunnel flick on as if nothing ever happened.

I quickly turn my belt light off, standing onto my feet. The ground seems disturbed, pieces of rocks and small holes littering the sides and the ground. For a moment, my heart races as the image of the floor giving way and us dropping seems likely. I notice Everest on the floor, still staying down.

_Kill him. It'll be easy, just like that, knife to his throat and you're safe._

"Here, let me help you up." I extend my hand down to Everest, push away all thoughts. He takes the offer and smiles.

"Thanks."

"Shouldn't I be thanking _you_ for saving me in the dark?"

Everest laughs lightly, before it turns into a cough, smoke having filled his lungs from the sudden explosion or cave-in or whatever it was. "Well, you looked a little lost."

_Don't fall for it. It's way of killing you when you least expect it. He doesn't care, you're just his target._

I ignore the words, squeezing my eyes for a moment as Demetria and Veena walk over. Veena's hair is a bit of a mess, twigs sticking out from the blonde streaks whilst Demetria looks the same. For a moment, the way she was rushing ahead, it was like she wouldn't bother to stop and help. Just keeping to running for her _own_ safety.

"Did we manage to save everything?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Everest nods. "I think we just lost some food."

"What are we gonna do?" Veena quickly mentions, sounding rather panicked.

"Don't worry," Demetria smirks. "Looks like we're just going to have to find some, instead."

Everyone looks confused by this. I think I get her, but I mean, when it comes to Demetria, everything can mean anything. You can _never_ properly tell with her. I quickly scoop up the backpack on the floor, standing straight and dusting off my clothes. Everest looks over with a smile, then, my eyes flick to Veena who also smiles.

"Lets get going," Demetria suggests. "If we want food, we gotta go find it ourselves, not wait around."

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

The tunnel echoes every step that we take, which is completely annoying as it doesn't help stealth. If you wanted to just sneak through, you couldn't. The rocks just take each noise you make, increases it and then bounces it back so that _everyone_ can hear.

"Will you guys shut up? You're making too much noise." Camila spits.

I'm making too much noise when it's _her_ big mouth that is shouting. Really, these are a bunch of amateurs. Sure, Kaden and Camila mentioned that they got trained. Nico, I have no idea and I don't really care. Me, my daddy done it so naturally I know what I'm doing compared to these idiots.

"I think the only one making noise is you, Camila, so how about you zip it?" Kaden retorts.

"How about I just cut your lips off so you can't speak?"

"Sometimes, I _wish_ that would happen to you so you can't speak at all and I don't have to hear that _voice_ of yours."

"And yet, you kissed these lips and now want them cut off? Bit of a turn around."

I sigh, trailing behind the group. Arguments seem to be the only thing we are good at. Five tributes died and four were only our kills. Six got to kill her district partner, which is annoying and stupid, because she's now first on our list according to Camila. Not only does Cam not like her, but then getting a kill when the bloodbath is our game? That's basically asking for trouble.

I watch carefully as Troy steps a bit closer to Nerine, spear sliding around in his small hand, the silver shining against the glow of the lights.

Poor girl won't know what hit her. Literally. She doesn't have a _chance_, and yet, I feel slightly bad. I just hope that he makes it as painless as possible. Because unlike him, I'm here to win, not just get a kick from the blood because I'm mentally disturbed. No, I'm here to win and yes, people will have to die. But it's not like I'm going to drag their pain out. Except Nico. Only because he annoys me.

"Oi, gorgeous, you're slacking." Nico shouts out.

Proves my point even more.

I open my mouth, ready to respond with my venom, when I hear the noises. Footsteps. Tiny, quiet footsteps. I stop just at an intersection of tunnels, noticing the footsteps coming from down there. I look, squinting my eyes against the dim light. I can see a shadow.

Instantly, I trek slowly down there. If it's a kid, I'll kill them, just so they don't have to endure the others _sick_ pleasure. Quick and painless.

Hiding behind a rock, backpack clutched in hand, is the awkward dwarf from Eight. He sees me, his eyes widening with fear at being discovered. Poor kid, doesn't know what hit him. Dead the moment he was reaped. My eyes narrow, hands clenching. But before I can react, multiple footsteps move towards us and I know the others have come back to see what was taking me so long.

Kaden eyes the boy like fresh meat. "Another casualty. Oh dear, this one is mine, seeing as you all have a kill on your list."

"I should take him. I mean, I can be more creative." Camila smirks.

"No no, let Kaden take him, he could use the death of a 12 year old on his list."

"Compared to the District Three boy you got, Troy? Great accomplishment that."

Looking at the boy, I can tell he's scared. However, his eyes are glued somewhere else. I follow the gaze, noticing it's Nerine. She looks so guilty, I can almost see her heart beating out of her chest. She steps forward, carefully, moving closer to the boy.

"Guys, he's just a little kid. You can't kill him."

Silence falls. Everyone looks at Nerine with a mixture of disgust and hatred.

"Why the fuck would you want him alive? He has no chance. It's better we do it before some dirty mutts get hold of him." Troy glares.

Nerine goes to answer, but before she does, I find my feet moving and my mouth speaking. "I think we should. As bait, you know. Keep him around and lure the other tributes out, seeing as they could feel sorry for him. Great way to find the ones hiding."

I don't know why I say it, but it works. Kaden gives in, Nico is already walking off with Camila and Troy just continues his glare at Eight. Our alliance just gained a new, temporary member. And I just backed Nerine up, despite her being the baggage. Guess the Games _do_ change people slightly.

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

"I don't feel like checking what's down there," Denim comments, looking down a dirty slope, heading into the darkness. "Anything could be down there. Plus, how would we get up?"

"Like I know," I scoff. "Probably is a death trap. Mutts, I reckon. Or quicksand."

Denim nods, playing with the curved knife in her hand. Ever since escaping the bloodbath, she hasn't let go of the weapon. Then again, I don't blame her. Once her use is all drained out, she_ won't_ be around and no doubt, she's thinking the same thing as me. Because that's something I've learned. Me and Denim are more similar than we let on, and if that is the case, then I better watch my back before I find that knife sticking in it.

I begin to walk away, Denim following quickly as to not lose me. The lights barely illuminate the place and for some reason, I have a strange feeling about the flashlight on the belt. Something about it seems omnious, particularly the part about Snow wanting us to know about it.

I'm not that quick and smart, but I'm not an idiot and it all spells trouble.

"What do you think we should do, then?" Denim asks, dragging her knife along the rugged wall, a piercing noise screeching out.

"For starters, maybe not attract attention to ourselves," I roll my eyes. "We could go hunting or something. For food, though."

"Do you even think there are animals down here?"

"Unless they want us to die of hunger, I'm sure something must be down here."

For some reason, now that the Games have actually started, Denim's losing her importance to me. I thought she'd be good to have as an ally, considering her decent aim and good score. But now, I'm guessing the pressure has gotten to her. Either that or she's just simply insecure of her abilities. If so, that makes her reckless and puts me in a position that's most certaintly _not_ where I want to be.

We continue our slow walk down the tunnel, noticing the dim lights glowing softly, making a faint buzzing sound. Our boots crunch against the stone, making the noise bounce out. Each intersection we cross, I have Denim take a side and I take the other. Scanning the area for anything that calls for us either running or attacking.

"So, Sorrel, can I ask what Eleven is like?"

I turn on my heel, looking at Denim with curiousity. Why does she want to know?

"Tell me what Eight's like. Or better yet, your family, you never talk about them."

Almost instantly, I can feel the atmosphere drop. Everything seems thick with intensity. I look at Denim, noticing the way she seems to avoid my gaze and look at her boots. For a second, she changes. From confident and sure-of-herself Denim to this, an insecure and shy looking version.

"I don't exactly have that much family. My brother, Challice, killed himself."

I feel slightly guilty. Her brother killed himself. Maybe that explains Denim's sudden shift to insecurity? She plays around with her knife, running the blade along the palm of her hand, before speaking again.

"My mother is an evil woman. Evil, evil, _evil_. The funny thing is, now that I think about, the District Eight tributes before me were probably in that position because of her," Denim dryly laughs. "She was a teacher. Forced her students to take out tessarae to feed her, cause well, the woman was a blimp. Then me. Tons I took out to feed her. So really, people say they have mommy or daddy issues don't know the_ half_ of it. My mother will_ literally_ be the death of me."

She laughs dryly again, running the blade along the wall as she walks past me. Maybe returning might not be a good thing for her.

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

It worked. Oh now stupid these Careers actually are. Scratch that, the whole of my so-called competition. They all just presume that I'm innocent, weak, scared and not a threat. But if they had the tiniest of brain cells, they'd realise that it's all an act. An act to win.

So far, Troy has been the only person to work it out.

He's my only real threat. As long as I can outlast him, I have this game in the bag. Might as well call the President himself and let him know I broke the records.

"Are you okay?" Nerine whispers, trailing behind with me.

I nod, sweetly smiling. You're just as much of an idiot as the rest, if not _more_.

"That's good. I'm glad that you're with us, now, it heightens your chances of getting further. Lasting longer."

Bitch, please, I had this won from the beginning. My chances rocketed through the roof when I got that 1. It played out perfectly. Then, running straight from the Cornucopia and heading to the tunnels, only bringing along a backpack in the knowledge that the Careers will find me and that Nerine will persuade them to spare me? I'm a genius, I really am. _No-one_ could have thought that up at all.

It takes skills to be so cunning, and unfortunately, that's something every single one of these morons lack.

The alliance begins to turn down another tunnel, Kaden up front, taking the leadership role. One by one, they follow like the pack of animals that they truly are.

"Can you see anything down there?" I hear Camila call, the girl just slightly in front of us.

"Yeah, just scare away the prey, stupid bitch," Troy seethes through his teeth. Then, as if feeling my stare on him, he glares at me. "Got something to say, dwarf?"

Dwarf? Really? You're not that much taller than me, you complete idiot. I bite my tongue, though. Stay in character, Alex, you have to stay in character to pull it off. My eyes widen as I step back, using Nerine as my human shield. I tug the material that sticks to her skin in my fist, looking as innocent and cute as ever, trying my best not to just _laugh_.

"Troy, there's no need for that." Nerine defends me.

Troy laughs darkly. "You're gonna stick up for him against me? Wow, you're weighing yourself down there Nerine. Bit by bit, your baggage is growing. You aren't going to last long."

Then, something I never thought would happen.

Nerine poises the trident in front of her, sticking it outwards towards Troy. Instantly, he draws his spear forward, bringing the metal arrowhead to Nerine's trident. Metal clangs together, which catches Camila's attention. She instantly charges through the weapons, splitting them apart. She draws two knives from her sleeves, pointing each one at Nerine and Troy. Nerine hesitates, Troy stands his ground.

"Will the babies please stop messing around," Camila smiles a sickly smile. "Otherwise, I'll have to cut your playtime in half. Stop being idiots and keep moving. Eight will die eventually, Troy, just move your ass so that we don't have to wait around for you. As psycho you are, you can kill and we need to pick the rest of these idiots off first. Move."

Camila shoves Troy at the shoulder, the blonde staggering before walking off, cursing under his breath. Nerine turns and looks at me, smiling.

"I'll protect you little man."

I smile back. Yep, bad choice Nerine. Say goodbye.

* * *

**Blaize Diano.**

The minute I heard them, I pushed Branton down behind a rock. Really, he's not only the man but also older. He should be protecting_ me_, not the other way around. Not that I need protection.

"What was that for?" Branton asks through a hushed whisper.

I don't respond, instead, pointing at the Career pack walking past the current intersection, mere metres away from us, I can hear them breathing and the beating of their cold hearts. They have a confrontation. Surprisingly, the girl from Four challenges her murderous district partner, all to protect the little guy from Eight. It's cute, in a sick way. The minute we landed, me next to him, he grabbed the first thing he could see and ran.

Now, he's prisoner. Captured, cornered, lamb to the slaughter.

"We could just kill them now. Get it over and done with."

I turn to face him, annoyed. "Really? Are you that stupid sometimes?"

He brings his finger to his chin, patting it. "I don't like to use the word_ stupid_. I prefer, creatively different."

"Yeah, and I like the word stupid, which sums you up. Now be quiet."

I turn to face the Careers, noticing One and Two disappear down the tunnel, circling the psycho from Four so that he doesn't attack or escape or do whatever goes on in his little messed up mind.

The Four girl and Eight stay back, only because the little one seems to be out of breath, hands on his knees as he breathes heavily. She pats him on the back lightly as he coughs from the dust inside the tunnel. Then, it happens.

Slowly, his small hands creeps into his skintight trouser legs. I don't know what he pulls forth at first, but then I see the glimmer of silver shining against the dull lighting. In a flash, he brings it up and stabs the taller girl in the neck. She gasps, gurgles on her own blood, before falling to the floor. Her hands cling to her neck, trying to save herself. But a small pool of crimson forms on the rocky terrain, spreading.

She has no chance. She cries, weakly, but it seems_ too_ late for her.

The boy, the evil little manipulative shrimp, leans down to face her, eyes locking.

"I'm sorry, Nerine. You helped, you honestly did. But as they said, the baggage was weighing you down. Protecting me was your _biggest_ mistake."

With one final swipe, he slashes her neck fully open, blood spilling everywhere. A cannon sounds and the girl is gone.

He scans the area, checking for others. He runs his fingers along her blood, before drawing it on his skin. Then, he uses his knife to cut a mark across his cheek. He's clever, I'll give him that. Making it look like he was attacked. He then gives out a scream and rushes down the tunnel the Careers went down, leaving her behind. Cold, metal teeth drop through the ceiling, wrap her up and pull her away. The worse thing is, she didn't stand a chance. She didn't see it coming and we all knew that.

It's not until Branton touches me that I snap back.

"Guess you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, then." Branton shrugs.

"Seriously, shut up," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Told you to take this seriously. The kid, the one that got the 1, is a proven killer. Step your game up, Bran."

"He just got lucky."

"Yeah, well, when has luck been on District Twelve's tributes side?"

But before we can respond, I hear the crunching of feet. He got the Careers to run back. 5 of them against me and Branton.

_Shit._

* * *

**Woods Davis.**

Numbness. That's the only thing I feel when everything catches up to me and slams into my body, hard. I _shouldn't_ have gone out there. I _shouldn't_ have attempted more than a fair share. If I didn't, if I stayed and followed Tasi's advice, he wouldn't be dead. He wouldn't have left me alone so soon.

I squeeze my eyes shut, begging for the tears to not threaten to spill. They can't. As the darkness of my closed eyes just bring forth a series of clips. Falling over on the stage, only to be caught by Tasi. Looking into his dark yet soft eyes. His friendly attitude. Protection in the training. Jealousy when I spoke to Branton. Then, it turns. My body falling. The silver sword cutting into Tasi's shoulder, metal digging against bone. His yelp of pain. The blood, spilling out.

Nico's words, blaming me, reminding me that it was _my_ fault.

The sword driving into his gut. Finishing him off, Tasi's warm blood splattered on my face.

It's enough to send someone insane.

"Woods, are you okay?" Crew asks quietly.

I nod, emotionless. It's too painful without him. Without even thinking, my hands rush towards my face, nails digging against my skin to rid the feeling of his blood. It's warm, like he's still alive.

And that makes everything worse.

As I scratch frantically, I feel Crew touch my hand softly. I look at him, noticing how innocent he looks. Tasi tried to protect me and him and Battery. He wanted us to be safe, and yet, I lead him out there into the midst of danger. He jumped for me, even when I told him not too.

"I managed to find some weeds and sticks," Battery mumbles as she turns in our little cave. It was hard to find, but after me and Crew ran into Battery, she led us down here. We're down a level compared to the Cornucopia, but it's quiet. No noise, just silence. "It's not a lot, but it's good enough to make a fire."

Her body and mine shiver in response. Crew eagerly scoops up the sticks and weeds, placing in the middle.

"I know how to make a fire!" He sounds happy all of a sudden, lifting the dark mood with his cheery personality. "I learnt it in the training. They taught me all about it. I can't wait for mommy to see that I can do this on my own."

As the fire ignites, I cup my hands and breathe into them. It's cold down here. _Too_ cold. It took us about an hour to get here, and on the way, we saw no sign of wildlife or food. Nothing. Luckily, Crew managed to save the bag that Tasi gave him before we both ran out, although it only held some bread, water and a simple, small dagger. But that's enough for me.

Besides that, I have my hatchet.

I bite into the bread, enjoying the warmth, despite the overall crunchy taste. Back home, I would have spat this out. Moaned that stupid people shouldn't be allowed to cook. But it's all we got and since we haven't got a _lot_, I can't complain too much. I try to enjoy it, but every bite reminds me of Tasi. The way, on the last night, we ate our food together in his room. Curled up on his bed, eating some bread and sauce.

Now, all this bread reminds me is of Tasi.

Guilt swamps me constantly, knocking my chest with every ebb. My body twists and every sick feeling rises in my body.

I have to avenge him. I _have_ too. I get up and give the rest of my bread to Crew, to eat or for safe keeping. It could be reckless, but I don't care. I've always been one to take a risk and right now, this will be the biggest risk of my life. But also an important one. One that will at least release some of this guilt.

"Where you going?" Battery asks me. I pick up the hatchet that I had, noticing the specks of red on the silver that infuriate me into wanting revenge.

"I'm going to make sure I do Tasi justice."

"But Woods, that's suicide!"

I smirk. "It's not suicide when they won't see me coming. I need to do this, Battery, for Tasi. He meant so much to me and it wouldn't be right."

I don't give either of them time to respond. I flash a smile, leaving Battery and Crew alone as I stalk off down the tunnel we came in. I'll find them and I'll kill him. I'll make sure Tasi didn't die in vain.

Whether I make it out or _not_.

* * *

**Runaway by Cartel.**

**I've deleted the website and created a simple, easy to use blog instead. To find it, go to - **** nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Nerine Monroe, District Four.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

**Around now, I'm going to be taking out the tributes with the lowest votes, until I reach my final 14. So voting can be extremely important.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has now changed since the Games have begun. You have to vote for 4 tributes only. This time round, you may vote for your own tribute. Again, votes in PM will be ignored and I will change it. Votes can only be through a review. I have decided that from now on, you must state a reason as to why you've voted for this tribute. If you don't, points will be deducted from your tribute.**


	10. Crossfire

_And we're caught up in the crossfire of Heaven and Hell,  
And we're searching for shelter._

_Lay your body down,_  
_Lay your body down,_  
_Lay your body down._

_And tell the Devil that he can go back from where he came,_  
_His fiery arrows drew their bead in vain._  
_And when when the hardest part is over, we'll be here,_  
_And our dreams will break the boundaries of our fear._  
_The boundaries of our fear._

* * *

**Troy Reed.**

After the little shrimp came back, claiming Nerine was dead, I knew something was up. Hate to sound all District Four, but something was fishy. A small cut and a small amount of blood. Yeah, sure, he's small. But whoever killed Nerine and "tried" to attack him, didn't exactly make much damage. I thought he was supposed to be a genius, and yet, I saw straight through his little game at the _very_ beginning.

But my alliance, well, they believed him. Shows the mental state of all of them as well.

"Where did they come from?" Kaden asks Alex.

He shuffles his feet, kicking a small stone, shaking his head. "I-I-I don't remember.."

Kaden huffs, slamming his axe against the stone wall in anger, narrowly missing a light. Red flushes his face, anger taking over. Short fuse, how _amusing_. That's something I can work with later on.

"Kaden, calm down," Camila soothes him, placing her hand seductively on his shoulder blade. He smirks devilishly, taking a deep breath. "Remember where we are and what we came to do. I'm here for you baby. We'll get Twelve some other time."

"Right, well, I guess it's no _big_ deal she's dead. It was gonna happen sooner or later, whether it was someone else or Troy."

I smirk at his choice of me. He is completely and utterly right. She is lucky someone else took her life, otherwise, it would have been me and that would have been more painful and humiliating. The spear rolls around in my hand, scratching against my skin. I could just take this and kill them all. All of them, gone, just like that. I don't know why I don't just do that, but then, I imagine Four and my parents. I had all the chances to kill them, and yet, it was more enjoyable to just fuck with their mind. It made more sense.

Maybe I should try that with these guys. Toy with their minds, just as Kaden said about me playing with my toys.

They just don't realise that they are in fact my toys. And trust me, if I had any toys to play with as a child, they would have been damaged and broken within _seconds_. Lets hope these "toys" don't break so easily. Otherwise, it'll be no fun. I don't realise I'm thinking too much until Kaden's voice brings me back.

"Oi, psychopath, we're thinking about splitting up and seeing as you're the youngest and most likely to cry or sulk, what do you think?"

Oh how he pisses me off. But no, it's not a good idea. My toys need to stay together, like a collection. It's _easier_ to keep track of them.

"I don't think it's a good idea. Besides, what if shortstuff was lying and he killed Nerine?"

Everyone glances at Alex, who plays the petrified card again, before they turn back.

"Yeah, cause he looks _so_ murderous," Nico snorts. "I think someone is overestimating themselves and their ability."

I nod, looking out the corner of my eye. The smug little shit, he's smiling whilst no-one is looking. Everyone begins to walk down another tunnel, leading god knows where. I stay back slightly, waiting for Alex. Diamond is the only one who stays slightly back, but then again, she still abandones the monster.

"I know your game, shrimp. Don't think you're so clever, you're _nothing_ and the minute they've been killed, your next."

He takes a minute to respond. "Why not kill me now?"

His voice is cold and detached. I knew it. "Because, my little elf, we're not so much different, and truth be told, that makes your kill the most entertaining out of them all."

I can see the ghost of a smirk on his lips, illuminated by the amber glow. "We'll see about that."

* * *

**Branton Callahan.**

My heart hammers against my chest as we slow down, finally having ran as much as possible. The minute Blaize told me that the Careers were heading back, I shot up. Like hell was I taking them on. I don't even remember how many turns we took, steps we climbed and slopes we slid down. All that ran through my mind was the fact that these tunnels are stupidly confusing. Each intersections splits into many other tunnels. Then there are steps that take you up a level, mud slopes that you can slide down to get to the lower level.

_Fuck_ knows how many levels are in this whole place. All I know is, we're further down then before.

"Do you think we lost them?" I ask Blaize, breathing heavily.

She takes a moment to compose herself, taking one final deep breath. "I doubt they caught up. But I wouldn't be surprised if someone else heard us. It's not just them that we have to look out for, Bran, everyone seems to be a killer. You saw that little guy from Eight, he killed a Career. A _freaking_ Career!"

"Well, she wasn't exactly a Career, Blaize," I point out, which only infuriates her even more that I've proven her wrong. I fight back a smirk as I try to continue. "She got a 7 and as far as I could tell at the bloodbath, she didn't make an effort to kill. The trident was practically greased up with her sweat."

"That's disgusting."

"That's life."

Blaize stops, then spins around, angered even more. "Well do you know what? Life sucks! It well and truly fucking _sucks_!"

Her voice booms against the cold, tunnel walls, bouncing around. "You're being awfully loud."

"Do you know what? Your smart mouth and sarcasm isn't helping."

"It isn't sarcasm. It's called survival instincts."

Blaize scoffs, walking to the wall and leaning against it. "Survival instincts.. It's funny that you never know when you actually need them. It's even more funny that now you actually wanna be serious."

I walk over to her, sliding against the stone, sitting next to her. I stop for a moment, taking notice of the water dripping against the rock. "I know what you mean. We lucked out, Blaize. Think about it, these tunnels are like mines. Like Twelve."

"I don't know, I've never been down there."

"Well I have, and I can tell you, it's like this. Cold, dark and ominous. It could scare _anyone_."

She turns her head towards me, strands of her hair falling to the side. She looks at me with her intense eyes, and for a moment, I get lose in them. Forgetting where I am or the situation we're both in. Together.

"Then why doesn't it scare you?" Blaize whispers.

Her voice sounds shaky, which isn't like her. The Games are changing her already, like they're trying to do for me. But it's not going to work. I'm going to stay myself up until my last breath. "Because I'm Branton Callahan. I don't get scared, I'm a warrior!"

She laughs, punching my shoulder. "You're _not_ funny."

"I think I'm _hilarious_."

"Only people who aren't funny, think they're funny." Blaize corrects me.

"That's not exactly fair," I smirk. "That's like saying that someone who isn't good-looking, think they're good-looking. I think I'm good-looking, does that mean I'm not?"

Blaize looks at me, directly, without even hesitating. Pink lightly brushes over her cheeks, and in the dim light, I can see her face not moving once. I lean forward, placing my lips against hers. The whole world stops around us, fireworks roaring through my mind. I pull away, breathing heavy. The dripping becomes more heavier, that being the only noise that fills the air.

"Looks like you've answered for me," I smile, knowing how much I got to Blaize. "I think it-"

"Shush." Her finger touches her lips, eyes carefully scanning the area.

"Really, again? Cutting me o-"

"Shush."

"Stop it!"

"Shut up Branton, I hear something!"

Then I hear it as well. The dripping was getting louder and closer. I look around, frantically, when a drop of water splashes against my head. As I look up, I can see more and more and more. My mind doesn't process anything. I grab Blaize's hand, yanking her up and running _again_.

But it's too late. The ceiling gives in, water rushes down and everything goes black.

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

I hear the muffled sounds of a guy and girl screaming, a bit of a distance away from me. I'd say about 4 or 5 tunnels over. Either way, it was muffled, so they must be a fair distance away from me. Instantly, I pull my knife out, pointing it straight. Like hell will some idiots be the death of me because they can't keep their mouths shut. Stupid fucking people, seriously. Then, along with the screaming, I hear the rush of water. Not just the annoying dripping I've been hearing, but tons of it. Like a river flowing madly.

Panic rises in me and I start running away from the screaming, pocketing my knife in my boot. The dripping follows me, like it's chasing me. The sick people stay in the room at the Capitol, laughing at my attempt at running away from it. They're probably expecting me to be scared or at least show fear. Like _fuck_ will they get that from me. All I know, I travelled down. I'm not that great with survival, but the further I climbed down the tunnels, the more I heard the dripping and clearly, that must mean there is a water source down below. God knows what, but I need it quick.

The sound of my boots slamming against the Earth quickens, and then, I hear it fully. I look up and behind me, noticing the ceiling collapsing, rocks falling down from the pressure of a ton of water, the eerie sound of water bursting against rock. It begins to get closer, almost above my head. But I keep running, running, running away from the bastards that done this to me.

Finally, I duck around an intersection, narrowly avoiding it. It stops there, as if by a magical yet invisible wall. My breathing begins to slow down, but instead, comes out in short breaths.

"Fuck!" I scream, punching the wall. I lost both the pipe and the knife when I was running. I dropped the pipe when I started, the knife must have slid out my boot.

When I hear some steps, I shut my mouth and clutch where my heart is, hoping to make the thudding less obvious. The thing that gets me though, it's more than one set of footsteps. It's several, and what's worse, there's about 6 at one time. The Careers.

I push myself down into the tunnel, using the shadows to hide me. I look out, watching the pair from Two simply walk past without a care in the world. If I had my knife, I'd run out and slice Camila's throat. I wouldn't even _care_ if I died. As long as the bitch goes down, I'm happy. But then, something shocks me. From the tunnel opposite me, I can see her. The girl from Seven whose name is something like Forest or whatever. She's lurking, on her knees, watching as the group goes by. Two, Four accompanied by their hostage. Neither surprises me that he got caught and she got killed. It's like a piece of written work.

But then, her from One goes by. Lacking behind is him. Nico.

She waits, looking like a cat about to catch a mouse. Then, when he steps in my view, she reacts. Screaming, she launches out at him, using her hatchet, swinging it madly.

"You killed him!"

Each scream, she swings her hatchet. When she does, sometimes, Nico clashes it with his sword. His team have returned, but rather than help, they watch. Like animals or the Capitol, which to me is both, they watch two teenagers battling it out for _fun_.

Nico manages to overpower her, bringing his sword down with such force, her hatchet comes flying into the tunnel I'm currently hidden in.

She falls back, scared.

"You killed him!"

"No I didn't. You," he points his sword at her eye. "You killed him with your stupidity. The funny thing is, he stood a chance. He _actually_ could have gone further, and yet, he wasted his life on _you_. You. The girl that decided that she was a hero, capable of taking us on. He saved _you_, sweetheart, so technically it was _your_ fault he died."

She launches herself up from the ground, kicking and punching. But it's no match. Nico catches her fist in one hand and twists. I hear the sickening sound of bones snapping, and like she was no more than a piece of wood, he chucks her behind him towards the audience. Her body slams against the ground and she yelps, clutching her broken wrist.

Nico turns, ready to finish her.

But he moves in. The psycho lines his spear up and lowers it down quickly, capturing her heart with his silver arrowhead. Her eyes go wide, mouth open and everything goes silent except for her weakened, strangled cry. A cannon sounds.

"Fuck you, she was mine!"

Troy smirks. "Kaden told me not to play with our toys. Whose the baby now, aye?"

They begin to walk away, but the glitter of the metal catches my eye. A hatchet, huh? Wonder what damage that could do.

* * *

**Veena Avery.**

A cannon booms through the arena, scaring me. But luckily, it doesn't bother me too much. It wasn't Rye or Everest or Demetria's, which is all I care about.

I lean against the rocky wall, enjoying the peace. Ever since the cave-in or whatever it was, everything has been peaceful. We have no food, but that doesn't matter so much. We haven't long eaten our apples, so I'd say we could last a bit longer. We walked ages, Demetria determined to find some sort of food source. She had this idea about jumping another tribute. Not killing them, just to steal their supplies.

She got out-voted instantly.

"Do you think it's almost time for the recap?" I hear Rye whisper to Everest.

He nods, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I'd say it's probably evening soon. So yeah, maybe, I dunno."

Rye smiles, nonetheless, leaning back against the rock wall opposite me, next to Ev. Dem is a bit away, but from what I can tell, she's glaring at the pair. I don't know why, though, but as she begins to lay down on the floor, I can almost feel the thick atmosphere. I push away the thought, though. These are my friends, her friends, I'm sure it's nothing.

"Hey Vee, do you have a weapon?" Everest asks me.

I nod, flashing my knife with a grin. "I still have it! We all have one, right?"

Everest and Rye nod in agreement, whilst Demetria stays silent. I look at her, but the glistening blade on the floor next to her points out the obvious.

Then, it begins. The anthem blares, the seal of Panem illuminating on the wall. First up is the strange boy from Three, the techy nerd. Followed by him is the girl from Four, which shocks me but then again, I remember people _not_ really taking her serious. It's a shame, cause in reality, she was just like the rest of the reaped. The pair from Five follow, causing my heart to break slightly. Six male, closely followed by the pair from Seven. Then, it vanishes.

"Wow.."

I turn to Demetria's voice, noticing her sat up.

"What?"

"I didn't expect either the guys from Six or Seven to die. They had the best scores compared to the Careers. Six even got an _8_, highest non-Career."

"Looks like anything can happen at the bloodbath."

"Technically, they weren't all bloodbaths," Everest points out. "The five cannons in quick recession earlier, they were the bloodbathed. They just wanted to see if they could rack up any more victims before showing us tonight."

Demetria nods, extending her arm out and grabbing the knife, sliding it closer to her.

"Same difference, Ev. Either way, they _didn't_ make it past the first day. They obviously had the bark, but lacked the _bite_."

Things soon lull into perfect comfort, the dripping of the water being quite soothing and relaxing. I feel my eyes beginning to close, the heaviness taking over. I swirl around in space, staring at the pretty stars. I'm back home at Nine, enjoying the day out in the fields, the sun beating down on me. Then, I snap back. Footsteps.

When I open my eyes, blurred, I can see shadows coming down the tunnel. Fear rises in me, seizing my throat. My hand stretches out, grabbing hold of Dem's foot. She wakes up, grabbing the knife and jabbing it forward. I back up, placing my finger to my lips and pointing to the oncoming person, my digit shaky.

Her fingers curl around a rock, picking it up and throwing it against the boys on the other side. It catches Everest's head, bouncing onto Rye after that. They both wake up and look at us, confused, but it's too late. The rock lands against the floor, and in the silence, it alerts them. The steps become faster, running, and my heart leaps to my throat. I scramble to get onto my feet, desperate to run away, but my legs are like gelatin. Demetria and Everest are a lot quicker, onto their feet in seconds. Demetria runs off, Everest shortly behind, waiting for Rye, but the fear causes him to struggle to stand. But he's slow and so am I.

The whistling of metal catches my ear, and noticing Rye getting up only to fall to his knees once more, tripping over himself, I make the conscious decision.

He deserves this more than me.

I leap across the gap, and then, it slams into my back. Blackness begins to swamp my eyes, tugging in from the corners. I see stars, like before, followed by the fields of Nine. Then, I see Rye's horrified face and Everest, tugging on his arm. I fall to the floor, weak. Sticky blood drips down my back, and then, the pain goes away. Everything seems peaceful, calm and quiet. I managed to save him. I managed to save my _friend_.

In the distance, I hear a cannon sound before the darkness smothers me.

* * *

**Denim Weavan.**

I watch from the distance as the axe that Kaden threw slams into the Nine girl's back. It wasn't even aiming for her. It was heading towards her district partner, the odd one. Yet, she sacrificed herself, taking the axe instead of him. She saved him and yet, I can't feel anything but slight regret and annoyance. She shouldn't have been so stupid. In all honesty, I've seen their alliance. The boy from Nine was the weak link, I think everyone could see that. The pair from Ten were the strongest, followed by her from Nine with the survival skills. He brought nothing to the table, and yet, she saved him.

"I think that was pointless," I mumble to no-one in particular, although Sorrel catches on. I turn, noticing her bewildered face. "She should have let _him_ die."

Sorrel looks confused. "Would you have just let your district partner die? The little one?"

It takes some time to register, but really, I don't even know. Would I? I'm not sure. Don't get me wrong, he's a kid and really, I have nothing to go home too. But I doubt I'd save him by risking myself.

"I don't know. How about you and _your_ little one?" I respond, slightly sarcastic.

Sorrel scoffs. "He's cute, don't get me wrong, but I wouldn't sacrifice myself. I would _avenge_ him, though. Make sure his family was okay and everything. There's nothing worse than a family losing their child."

"Don't you ever wonder how families feel when they lose their child to the Games?"

She takes some time to respond, and for a moment, I can see slight annoyance in her face again. "I know how _mine_ reacted when I lost my sister."

I never knew that. I never knew her sister was reaped and died. All I knew was that she lost someone to the Games, she just never told me who. That's the thing with Sorrel, she doesn't like to speak too much about her life or family. I guess I'm the same, well, I have no point in talking about _her_.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, _you_ never did anything, did you? It was him, that mentor from Four."

"It was his year? You mean Lagoon Strong, right?"

"Yep," Sorrel responds icy. "He killed her. Bloodbathed."

So Sorrel has emotional attachment to this. That makes her a liability, a weakness, something that can slow me down or cause her to become more reckless than she should. That worries me. Maybe I should take her out now, whilst the power is still there? Possibly. I'd have to strike her when she's not looking, though, since I know she's a tough nut to crack. And yet, I feel the need to question her more on this.

"What was her name?"

"Pickney."

Pickney Springfield. Hmm, guess it works. "I _am_ sorry, though."

Sorrel shrugs her shoulders, switching the scythe in her hand to the other. I can hear the faint scoff, but as she walks ahead into the darkness, I can't help but feel like I've hit a raw nerve. But the way she walks, I can't help but judge her leadership and the feeling of wanting to take her out grows even larger than before.

* * *

**Crew Willow.**

"I can't believe it.."

Battery sits there in shock, taking in the news of Woods being killed so early.

"Battery, I don't like this," I say with as much strength I can muster. "They got Woods _and_ Tasi.."

"I know," Battery responds, instantly standing up and walking over to me. "It's gonna be okay, Crew, I promise."

I look up, noticing the tiny tears pricking at my eyes. Through the blur, I can see Battery smiling softly and almost straightaway, I feel slightly better. Just like when mommy would hug me and tell me things would be okay, even though I could hear my daddy's screams of pain. Just like Seeder would tell me things would be okay.

Everyone tells me it's all going to be okay, but I know it won't. I _won't_ be okay, but I'm okay with that.

"Come on little man, how about we start moving? I can't remember which direction she took off in, so we'll just try this one, yeah?"

"You're so smart, Battery."

"Thank you," Battery smiles, before turning her voice into a whisper. "But do you wanna know a secret?"

I nod my head, excited. I like secrets.

"Well, I am smart but I don't show it. Back in District Three, everyone falls under a stereotype. I want to be myself, an individual, so I hide it. Just remember, Crew, don't let them change you no _matter_ what. You were born this way, so love it whilst you can."

"I know," I smile. "Can I have a weapon, just in case?"

Battery looks puzzled, debating on whether to give me something. Luckily, just as Tasi picked me up and dropped me off in a tunnel, before we ran back into Battery, he left me the backpack. Then, when Woods decided to go and try more supplies and Tasi went after her, he told me to look after the backpack. I don't know why, but a simple knife was inside.

"We only have one weapon, Crew, it'd be hard.. If something happens, I'd need to react. I'd need to protect you, you know."

"But I can protect you.."

Battery lightly laughs, brushing her hand across my cheek. "I'm the oldest, I think _I_ should be protecting _you_."

I nod and smile, standing up. Battery does the same, wrapping her hand around mine.

"Come on, lets go," she smiles one more time, before turning to face the way we're going. But I can see shadows and footsteps and so can she. "Crew.."

Fear rises in me, then, the lights begin to dim. The glow dies out slowly, followed by the footsteps increasing. I look at Battery, whose head is snapping between the lights, the oncoming tributes and then the tunnel behind us. She doesn't know what to do.

Then, he materialises.

"Hey, _look_ who we have here. My little doll to play with." Troy sniggers, grin darkening through the lights flickering.

Behind him appears the other Careers, who look baffled by the lights. Then, I look at Battery one more time, the fear present in her eyes and her grip around the knife becoming deadly.

"Let's have some _fun_, shall we?" Troy smirks one more time, then, the lights die and darkness swamps the tunnel.

* * *

**Crossfire by Brandon Flowers.**

**I've deleted the website and created a simple, easy to use blog instead. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Woods Davis, District Seven.**

**Veena Avery, District Nine.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**

* * *

**Also, I wanted to point out one thing when reading this. The whole arena isn't actually big, it's an optical illusion. To the tributes, they think it stretches on for miles and every tunnel is new. Reality is that it isn't. That's why the Careers are popping up everywhere at the moment. Everyone is crossing paths, cause really, there aren't that much tunnels.**

**It's all an illusion. ;)**


	11. If I Die Young

_A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar,_  
_They're worth so much more after I'm a goner._  
_And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'_  
_Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'_

_If I die young, bury me in satin,_  
_Lay me down on a bed of roses._  
_Sink me in the river at dawn,_  
_Send me away with the words of a love song._

* * *

**Kaden Hallory.**

I can't see a thing. Nothing. Everyone goes completely quiet after the lights go out, the last image in my head being the terrified eyes of both Three and Eleven. They looked so scared, I can only imagine their tiny hearts thudding against their chest, _begging_ to survive this act of horror that's about to happen.

Troy cackles, making the only noise. His dark laugh bounces off the walls and floor, and once again, I find myself choosing between joining in with the laughter or simply killing him now.

Not that I know where he is. Before the lights went out, I knew Camila was next to me. That's all I remember. I can still hear the faint beating of her cold heart, knowing that deep down, she must be going into shock. Not many people know this, except those who trained at the centre in Two. Camila Norvic, terrified of the dark. She _acts_ tough and has the mouth to back it up, but deep down, she's a scared teenager, unable to cope with the elusive darkness.

"Kaden.." I hear Camila whisper. "Do you see anything?"

"No."

I feel someone tugging on my hand, and my first response is to grab it with my other hand and snap their wrist. Touching me. But when I feel fingers clawing to get inside my hand, I know it's Cam and that makes the situation less murderous. But the murderous thought _still_ lingers there..

"Scared, are we?"

"Tell anyone and I'll kill you quicker than you can bat an eyelash." Camila whispers harshly.

I smirk, focusing my hearing on the sounds of everyone breathing. Trapped in the box room enough back in Two, it brings out your other senses.

Then, almost like they're playing mind games, the lights flick back on.

Light smothers the area, and before anyone has anything to say, Three and Eleven begin to run backwards. I see their small frames, ducking around the corner but it's too late. The chase is on.

"Get them!" I shout, and following me like they should, our entire pack makes chase.

Our feet pound against the rock, crushing it beneath our boots. Everytime the little alliance thinks they've lost us, we turn a corner, only to see them turn _another_. It soon becomes a game of cat and mouse, and thankfully, the mouse never manages to get away. We're quicker.

One more turn and they're cornered. They hit a dead end and as we slow down, I can see Three touching the stone wall that's sealed her fate. If only she didn't lead them down a dead end.

"Looks like it's the end of the line," Nico grins murderously. "And you were so close to actually escaping. It's almost sad."

"Now now, let's not play with them Nico," Camila steps in. "I feel like the little one should die quickly, seeing as he's nothing more than a baby."

As she pouts mockingly, Nico laughs. "Three can suffer though. This would have been the second time she would have slipped through our fingers."

"She's _mine_." Troy smirks, bloodlust swamping his delicate, girly eyes.

I roll my eyes, pulling my axe out forward. One slice and they're down for the count. Easy.

But nothings ever easy. The lights begin to flicker madly, and as it catches my attention, the ground beneath us begins to shake. I can't keep myself up, and quickly, I fall to my knees. Some of the others follow me, but surprisingly, the shaking hasn't affected either of Three or Eleven, who both stand their with wide eyes.

The shaking is just around us, the Careers. They're safe.

Troy, however, doesn't miss his chance _again_. The spear leaves his hand and spins in the air, just as the floor gives out and we fall through.

As I fall, my whole body light, I hear the sound of the spear catching it's target and a yelp echoing out. Gotcha.

* * *

**Demetria Greene.**

I close my eyes, realising that everything was pointless. Getting allies was pointless. Sure, I didn't think it would be a bad idea. But fuck. I _never_ meant to get attached. I _never_ meant to actually like the girl, and now that she's gone, my heart hurts. I actually liked her, even though I promised myself I wouldn't.

I got attached, even when I promise myself I couldn't.

Rye cries softly into Everest's shoulder, tears soaked into the older boy's uniform. She sacrificed herself for him and I deserted them all. I ran, praying that they were at least following. But they weren't. Everest was, and even then, he stayed back to try and help both Rye and Veena, the weaker ones of this alliance.

He should have known _better_. We're stronger, we can last longer.

I watched as Kaden, launched that axe with such ease. It was heading for Rye and Veena got in the way.

Shaking my head to rid the thought, I walk over to the boys, both curled up in an upright ball, Everest comforting Rye's crying.

"I'm sorry, Rye, I'm _so_ sorry." Everest murmurs into Rye's shoulder.

The thing is, he knew that one day it was going to happen. One day, either him or her or both were going to die and be separated. As far as I knew, neither Veena nor Rye knew each other before the Games. Both two different lives back in Nine. Yet, they came here and depended on each other, whereas when it comes to me and Everest, that's not needed. I don't depend on him and he most likely doesn't depend on me.

It's the way we've worked this out. I don't need any of them, really. My chances are probably higher if I were on my own.

"Demetria," I look down to see Everest, staring at me. "Do you think we should move on? Cause like, I do-"

I shrug my shoulders. "I dunno. I think it's best we keep moving."

"But I doubt Rye's ready just yet," Everest frowns. "He's still shaken up."

I nod, despite it pissing me off. I didn't want to get attached, but I did and now she's gone and I just have to suck it up. That's it. Why can't he do the same? It's not like he's known her long. A few days, since the reaping. Same as me, in fact. We're equal in this and if I can get over it, despite it being tough, so should he.

"Well, can he not be shaken up?" I respond, words laced with venom. "I mean, they could be coming this way right now and we wouldn't _know_! We're sitting ducks!"

Everest looks shocked. He unwraps his arms from around Rye, standing up. "Fuck off Demetria, we ran down all these different tunnels! No _way_ they caught up!"

"When they hear him crying, they'll get us, you watch!" I shout by this point, anger taking over.

Scarlet paints Everest's face, the anger visible. I look at Rye, noticing he too looks shocked, just stood there with wide, glassy eyes and red cheeks.

"We're a team, Dem, he lost an ally. We lost an ally. Stop being so cold."

"It was _bound_ to happen," I spit. "It's about time we got things moving and stopped moping around. We've wasted _too_ much time already."

I lean down, scooping up a knife and the backpack. When I stand back up, Everest and Rye haven't moved, both staring me down with different expressions. Everest is annoyed, Rye looks bewildered with doe-like eyes.

"Aren't you coming?" I ask, trying to calm down. I gesture my hand out to the tunnel. "It's this way, right here, not that far to walk."

Everest crosses his arms over his chest, jaw clenched. "No, Demetria."

"What?"

"You heard me, no. If you wanna think about _yourself_ and leave, then go now. I'm staying for a friend. Not that you'd know that word, seeing as that's _twice_ now you've run faster than all of us, just leaving us behind. Caring about yourself because you're selfish."

"Do you know what? _Fine_," I throw the backpack to the ground. "I don't need _any_ of you. I'll do better by myself."

I stalk off down the tunnel, fuming. I'll do better than both of them. They better watch out, because if someone in this alliance has got any chance of winning, it's me.

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

I fall to my knees, quickly bringing Crew's little head into my lap as we land on the rocky floor, inches away from the gaping hole in the ground. I stare at him, noticing that whilst tears stream his face and he hisses in pain, he doesn't look so innocent any longer. They ripped it away from him because that's what they like to do. Take children, turn them into their puppets and then cut the strings when they feel like they've run their course.

"B-Battery," Crew cries. "Am I going to d-d-die?"

I look from the spear stabbing into his chest to the ruby pool of blood. I push back some of his messy locks, sadly smiling.

"You'll be okay, Crew, you're gonna be okay."

He hisses in pain again and my heart thumps. I jerk my head from the wound to him, trying to think of something. Anything. Anything to save him. But it seems hopeless. I look into his eyes, noticing how glassy they look and how they're losing their colour. He's dying. I need something to save him. Anything. A parachute would come in handy..

"You're gonna be fine, sweetheart. Just hold on for me," I whisper, tears peppering my eyes and falling down my face. "Please Crew, just hold on. Let me think of something."

He coughs, blood filling his mouth and a small trickle rolling down his chin.

"D-Do you think I made mommy p-proud?"

I don't know whether to laugh sweetly or cry. Even when he's on the verge of dying and he stills cares about how his mom sees him. "She'll be so proud. So so _so_ proud of you."

More tears fall from my eyes, making them sting. I look to Crew, who looks at me with a weak smile. The tanned colour from his skin begins to fade, draining the colour and fibre from his body. He's dying and there's nothing I can do. I place my hand around the wound, pressing down, praying that the blood begins to stop.

He cries out in pain, and quickly, I restrict my hand. I don't know any medical stuff.

I don't know. I just don't _know_.

"D-Did they fall through the g-g-ground?" Crew croaks, voice breaking.

I nod, allowing myself to whimper slightly. I look to the hole, noticing how big it was. It barely missed us. "Y-Yeah, yeah they did. You managed to beat them, Crew."

He smiles weakly again. "I-I just wanted to make m-mommy p-proud of me. I-I didn't want her to think of me as a b-baby."

"You tried so hard, Crew. I don't know a braver kid. She w-won't think of you as a baby."

"I love you B-Battery."

"I love you too," I croak. "I'm s-so sorry Crew. I'm sorry for letting you down. I _s-should_ have tried harder to save you.. I'm sorry."

"D-Don't be," Crew murmurs. "Y-You tried your h-hardest."

I shake my head, finding my voice gone. Every emotion has just destroyed my vocal cords. His chest begins to slow down, breaths becoming short and painful. His tiny hand, weakly and shaking, pulls something from his pocket. Vision blurred, I look at the object he pulls out. His token. A small, wooden bracelet.

"Take it." Crew whispers.

I take it from his hand, looking down at it. It's so creative and pretty and so Crew. I smile. "I'll get this back to your mommy, I promise."

When he doesn't respond, I look up, noticing the rising in his chest stopping. He looks at me with glassy eyes, black and a small smile on his face. Just like Glitch, I couldn't save him. Just like Glitch, I watch the colours die from his eyes. Someone I cared for, dead, and there was _nothing_ I could do.

The emotions catches up to me. I break down, body shaking as I clutch onto Crew's head, stroking his hair. A cannon sounds and finally, I'm all alone.

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

A cannon booms through the arena, shaking the walls. Another one down. That leaves only 15 left. Moving pretty quickly. Only the beginning second day in and 9 have already lost. Looks like I'll be going home sooner than I first thought. I turn to Denim, noticing the girl slowing down. Since the death recap, two more have died and we've only finished the first day.

"What time do you think it is?" Denim asks as we stop. "Should we sleep? I mean, the death recaps _have_ already happened so Day One is over."

"I guess." I shrug my shoulders.

"Where should we set up?"

"I don't mind, you can pick."

As Denim goes to sitting down against the edge of the tunnel, I walk over to the edge of the intersection. I can hear something, but there's no point in telling Denim. I've come to learn that whilst she's good at some things, I highly doubt fighting will be good. Sure, she threw a spear pretty well and pulled a 7.

But that was at inanimate objects. I think a moving target _might_ be a struggle for her.

14 more have to die before I can return home, knowing I did my family and Pickney justice.

What would make the cake sweeter, is if I could kill the little psycho from Four. That would really hurt his mentor. Be liked a stab to the heart, punishment for what he did to Pickney before she even had the chance to breathe a little. If she did get hold of a scythe, he wouldn't have lasted. I'm good with a scythe, but Pickney's always been better.

She trained me, slightly, in the events that I might be reaped. How right she was. It's almost as if President Snow enjoys torturing my family, taking away the children one by one.

"Sit, Sorrel."

I look at Denim, glaring. "I will when I'm ready."

"But you could attract attention."

I clench my jaw, annoyed. I turn around, shrugging my shoulders sarcastically as I take a seat, opposite her. She looks at me for a second, playing with the knife in her hand. I should sleep. The worst thing about the Games is, you can never tell how many days you've been in here. The recaps give you a hint, since they appear at nighttime, everyday.

These tunnels make it worse, showing no light _whatsoever_. You feel like you're cut off from reality; stranded, abandoned, alone.

The irony. That is the idea of the Games, as well. Pulling you from reality, like a helpless puppet, thrown somewhere new where someone pulls on the strings to make you dance for them.

That's all we are to them. Puppets for their amusement.

I allow my eyes to shut for a moment, deciding rest could be the best bet. Darkness begins to cloud my mind, taking everything away. I fall back to Eleven, the trees piercing the clouds in the sky, beautifully dancing to the wind's melody. It's all so beautiful and I'd be lying if I didn't say I miss it. I hear the sound of footsteps.

Without even thinking, I grab my scythe and open my eyes. With a shake of my head, I take a swing, the metal landing straight into Denim's side. She crumples in pain, blood gushing from the wound.

"I can't believe you actually tried that and here I was, thinking you were smarter than you let on." I scoff.

Denim cries slightly, hands shaking as she tries to stop the blood from pouring out of her small body. She had no chance of going home and from what she said, it'd be best for her to run up to Death and just hug him.

I shake my head one more time, letting the scythe fall to the ground, blood staining the Earth. "That was _pretty_ stupid, Denim. I wouldn't have taken you out so early. It's a shame, really, a tiny part of me was actually starting to like you. Oh well, only one can live and it looks like the odds just _wasn't_ in your favour."

Dragging the scythe along the ground, I leave her. A cannon booms after I'm a few metres away and I smirk. I knew she was watching.

"Liked the show, did we?"

She steps out from the darkness, smiling slightly. "I suppose I did. As long as that doesn't happen to me."

"Just don't test your luck," I smile sadistically back. "Nice to have you in the alliance, Demetria."

"Glad to be here."

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

My eyes burn as I open them up. I have no idea how long I slept, but walking for so long tired me out. After Veena's death and Demetria abandoning us, Everest said it was best for us to just walk as far away from where we were.

We didn't just keep walking straight, though. We went downwards. We followed each tunnel until we found a slope, and with difficulty, we climbed out. It was a lot harder with Everest's limp, but we managed.

"Hey, you're awake."

I rub my eyes, forgetting everything after a few too many slopes. I don't even know where we ended up. "Yeah.. How long was I out for?"

"A whole day." Everest smiles softly.

Electric shoots through my body. A whole day? "What?"

_A whole day went by and he could have killed you. You're useless, Rye. Nothing but a pathetic coward. Might as well just stab yourself and get it over with._

Everest laughs lightly, nodding as he hands me a piece of dried beef jerky from the backpack. "We got down here and everything must have tired you out. Slept for ages, but no-one disturbed us."

"I missed the recap.. Both of them.." I say softly. "I missed seeing Vee's face.."

"Maybe it was best you didn't see it," Everest offers lightly. "Besides her it was the girl from Eight and the little boy from Eleven. The next day, no-one died. A clean day."

I nod, biting into the food. I let my eyes gaze around, noticing the beautiful room we're in. It's a lot larger than the tunnels. Huge, in fact, it's almost like the training centre. The rocky ceiling is high up, crystalized rocks sticking into the earthy canvas. In the middle of the room is a spring. All that water that was dripping around, flowing through the rock, was from here. I stand up, walking slowly over to the edge.

The water down below looks cerulean blue, waves lapping against a small, rocky beach that lies nearby. It's further down, a giant mud slope leading down there.

"This place is amazing.."

"I know right?" Everest smiles. "Glad we found it. Managed to go a whole day without being found. We've got water, proper shelter _and_ I even found some edible plants nearby that I remember Veena showing us."

Her name makes my body drop and the scene rushes back to me. Metal carving through the air, Veena's weak smile, the life in her draining away and Everest pulling me. She died saving me. A simple, screwed up boy from the same district as her. She didn't even know me before the Games. Yet, she became my realisation. She kept me connected to Nine, and now, she's gone. And it's all my fault that someone so _pure_, died for someone so tainted.

"Hey.." I snap back out the though, finding Everest with an arm slung over my shoulder. "She done it because she _cared_ for you, Rye. She wanted _you_ to live more than her."

"I just wish she didn't," I respond quietly. "She deserved to win more than I do."

Everest shakes his head, still smiling softly. "No. No-one deserves to win more than you do, Rye. You have this heart of gold that everyone just wants to have themselves. Even I'm envious."

"But you're such a kind person."

"Who would kill if they had too," Everest sighs. "You seem so pure, that I doubt you're capable of it."

"I would if I had too. I'd kill to protect the ones I care for."

"Well how about I make sure that doesn't happen, yeah?" Everest says with a smile. "Besides, it's you and me now and we're doing fine! I mean, look at this room, it's amazing and we didn't need Demetria to help us out!"

I smile, realising that when it came down to it, I only needed Veena and Everest. They were the only people to ever be able to shut him up. Demetria was always a little bit more distant.

_Kill him now whilst you have the chance. Don't be pathetic, Rye, just do it. Drag that blade across his throat._

Looking up at Everest, I can see his general optimism. And that itself makes me feel more happier.

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

I sit back on my knees, checking out the damage around us once again. I have to admit, even I didn't see the floor giving way and I'm more than ready for anything. The perks of being trained, I guess. That and being the only sane mind surrounded by a bunch of insane tributes, all craving for blood in their own demeted ways.

I'm pretty sure no-one even cares about winning, they just want the enjoyment of killing someone without being punished for it.

Except maybe Nico. But only because he's arrogant enough to want the fame and attention.

Surprisingly, I could have killed them all. Maybe I should have. The minute the floor gave way and we fell, they all fell unconscious. I was trained for this, though. I managed to come around before any of them, just in time to see the recap that showed that no-one died. Oh how the Capitol people must be rolling around in panic, like little children without their toys.

"Fuck," I hear Kaden groan as he gets to his feet. "How long we been out for?"

"A day." I respond.

Slowly, everyone else gets up. They haven't even realised yet.

"Where's Alex?" Troy asks, annoyed.

_Bingo_.

"He didn't fall through," I state calmly. "He's more clever than we thought. The minute the rumbling happened, he backed away. Avoided it and it's funny, because you gave him _all_ of our backpacks to carry, Troy."

"That fucking little _demon_!" Troy screams, standing to his feet and punching the wall, a few small rocks dislodging themselves.

"I knew it," Kaden smirks. "I thought I heard someone stepping away when the shaking started. Never expected it to be him, though."

"Looks like he's more clever than we thought."

"_Told_ you." Troy sneers.

"Right, I'm thinking it's time we split up. Alliance over," Kaden announces. "Frankly, it's pathetic we're a few days in and not a lot of people have died. We should be in the final five at this very moment. Splitting up, we can narrow the numbers down and then, the fun can start as the wolves fight each other."

"I agree." Camila smiles wickedly.

"Well fuck the lot of you, I want Three." Troy glares.

"How do you know she's not dead? She could have been the one you hit."

"I wasn't aiming for her. I wanted _him_," Troy smiles. "You see, I want her to suffer. When I didn't get her at the bloodbath, I thought of a plan. Taking out all of her allies was the best thing. Leaving her on her own, running around without a clue as to what to do. She'll be easy to find and _torture_."

He pulls up his spear and walks away, leaving us. Four of us left.

"I'm sticking with Kaden," Camila moves over, running a hand down his bulging arm flirtatiously. "One should stay together."

I roll my eyes, finding Nico, smiling as he twirls his sword in the air. Oh great fun. I would have preferred the psycho to him, _anyday_. With that last word, the Career alliance is over. Me and Nico walk one way, Two walks the other. They'll be dead soon enough.

As we walk down the tunnel, I can hear Nico whining about the darkness. He drags his sword along the ground, hitting rocks and causing them to fly and scatter haphazardly. Such an idiot, it's actually _lost_ its entertainment value. But as we turn another corner, I smile to myself. Found them.

Laid out on the floor, soaking wet, rocks laid around them and her red hair spewed out on the rocky terrain.

It's almost too easy.

We found Twelve. Time to show the audience what a _real_ Victor can do.

* * *

**If I Die Young by The Band Perry.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Crew Willow, District Eleven.**

**Denim Weavan, District Eight.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

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**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**


	12. Femme Fatale

_Here she comes, you better watch your step,_  
_She's going to break your heart in two, it's true._  
_It's not hard to realize,_

_Just look into her false colored eyes,_  
_She builds you up to just put you down, what a clown._

* * *

**Blaize Diano.**

I'm sat in my room, watching the TV set, watching another two kids that I knew, slaughtered quickly in the bloodbath. My heart leaps to my throat, but I watch through it. I don't know why, but I can't peel my eyes away. When I do, the TV set appears somewhere else, stalking me. Everytime I turn somewhere else, it's there, watching me, forcing to watch over and over again as the boy gets decapitated, the girl's throat slit in a bright red smile.

Then, the smell of smoke enters my nose. I stir, the pounding behind my eyes hurting so much, it scares me. Stars peppering the black canvas, and for a moment, it's like I'm spiralling out of control in space. My hand feels tense, hurting, a sharp shooting pain scorching up my body.

"Wakey wakey, Twelve, it's time to get up."

I don't recognise the voice. It's soft but sadistic. Like the calm before the storm. I slowly peel my eyelids open, noticing I'm facing the ground. Fuck. Branton was quick, I admit, but the water caught up to us. It fell and before I knew it, water soaked me and something large and hard smashed onto my head, taking me down. My whole went dead, but I remember Branton falling with me, his hand connected to mine, not leaving once.

Not once did I think I'd end up here, attached to a boy that's a total opposite compared to me, and yet, I feel like I need him. In some twisted way.

Along the lines that are by far now blurred, I fell for a boy that originally, and still now, I can't stand.

"Blaize, get up."

Then, I hear Branton's voice. But it's different.. Strangled, more breathy and totally not him at all.

I struggle to my feet, but I don't need too. Quickly, a fist grasps my hair and I'm lifted up with ease. My throat tightens, the smoke taking it's effect. Then, I'm smothered as reality hits and everything goes back to normal. I look down at Nico, his hand wrapped in my red hair.

"_Morning_ sweetheart, had a nice sleep?"

I don't get time to respond. He throws me, hard, against the cave wall, the wind knocked out of me. Then, just behind him, I can see Branton, body pressed to the ground by Diamond's boot.

"I'm so glad to see you," Nico sneers. "I couldn't wait any longer for this moment. When you managed to get away, I have to admit, I was slightly glad. Why let them have the fun when I could?"

Anger boils in me. Not just from the fact that Nico seems to think he has the upper hand, but also by the sight of Branton. Sweet, charming and such a dork Branton, reduced to something he shouldn't be. This, this is something I can handle. For some reason, I don't feel like Branton can.

"Anything to say, Red?"

"Actually yeah, I do," I choke out. "_Smile_, pretty."

He looks confused. He doesn't have time to register. I quickly build up some spit, letting it fly and land in a spray on Nico's face. He mustn't be used to such disgusting things in One, seeing as his hands almost automatically let me go. Then, without another thought, I run across the gap, tackling Diamond off of Branton, to the floor with a thud.

Once again, the wind is taking out of me, but it's better than nothing. Diamond isn't armed, Nico has the knife.

I smile, knees pressed into her arms, my body on top of hers. I turn, slightly, seeing Branton quickly moving to his feet and pushing Nico up against the wall. I turn back to Diamond, noticing her face is emotionless. I can _tell_ she was prepared for this. Prepared for someone to actually take her on. But something in her eyes spark anger, and for a moment, my heart lurches. I'm not ready for this.

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

The lights flicker softly as I walk along, backpacks in my hand. Four backpacks, courtesy of those stupid idiots. Once again, they underestimated me. They didn't believe I took out Nerine, they believed I was so weak and yet, they trusted me enough to hold the backpacks. Well, not so much trust but definitely thought of me as their pack mull.

Oh how wrong they were.

I hear soft footsteps in the distance and my walking slows down. I back up in the darkness, pressing my back against the wall. From the dim light and the constant dripping, I can make out one set of footsteps and quickly, my mind backtracks to who it could be.

The Careers, Twelve, the Nine & Ten alliance, girls..

Her from Six. I think she's the only one left that's actually alone.

Oh, the _poor_ girl. She has no chance on her own. See, that's the difference between me and her. I can handle being alone because I've always been alone. My parents, they doted on me, loved me and cared for me. But it was never enough. No happy how hard they tried, they could never fill the whole inside me. I was empty, hollow, like a walking shell with a simple pulse. People think I'm cute, sweet and innocent, when in reality, they don't know. They don't know how I don't feel anything except emptiness.

I'm clever, more than I should be, more than these idiots. They think they're all great, but me, I've had life experience. Twelve years old and I already know enough pain to fucking be the best at this game.

Because let's face it, no-one is quite in my league. I only ever liked Camila cause we were similar. Without hearts, doing what we want to get what we want. But there is a difference and that is that there is actually something between my ears instead of air.

I watch her, Ryder, walk by slowly, hatchet clenched in hand.

I wait til she's just passed me, before jumping out. She spins around, looking at me with intense, dark eyes.

"Well, someone is a little sneaky," Ryder sneers. "Look at all those backpacks you have."

Might as well drop the act. It's pretty much pointless, they all might as well treat me as competition otherwise this will be easier than I actually imagined.

"It's called having brains."

"I'm familiar with the term, thank you very much," Ryder glares. "Don't treat me like I'm stupid, kid. You _might_ be small, but this is what we're been put in here for and I'm _not_ scared to cut you in fucking half. Literally."

"I don't doubt that for a second," I respond coldly. "I just thought you'd maybe like a backpack, of sorts?"

She eyes the bag I hold out, shifting her uncomfortable eyes between that and myself.

"I'll pass _thanks_. Now, since you're so ickle, I'll let you runaway. Go now before I change my mind."

Ryder turns her back on me, starting to walk away. That was very unlike her. From watching her, she usually doesn't think before she acts. She's like an animal, really. She doesn't have much of a conscious or common sense. But I don't let that happen. No, this wasn't how this was supposed to turn out at all. I throw the backpacks to the ground, slipping the knife from my boot as I run towards her. She catches the sound of my footsteps, spins around and jumps back, just as I jab my knife forward.

She laughs lightly, bringing her fist across, catching my hand. The knife flies out, clanging against the wall. She brings her hatchet up, pulling it down fast, before it stops just in front me of me.

"You know, I never thought of using a hatchet before. I always imagined I'd be more of a knife girl. Never mind, this'll do. As I said. Go. Now. Before I change my mind and rip the _fuck_ out of you with this hatchet."

With wide eyes, I run back to the backpacks, only grabbing two seeing as my hand now hurts, courtesy of the she-man. Anger runs through my blood. She's made herself the wrong enemy. The bitch.

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

I look straight into Twelve's eyes, watching the small smile play at her lips, deciding on whether she wants to take me on or not. She should choose carefully, because there's a reason why Twelve never wins and One has better odds.

Little girl should realise this, but clearly, the coal has gone straight to her head.

"Branton, you got him?" Twelve calls to Branton.

See him, I've bothered to learn his name. I don't know why, but he makes an impact compared to her. She drifts into the background, the only thing remotely interesting about her being her hair, which surprisingly, isn't that great up close.

"Yeah, he's mine," Branton calls back. "Blaize, keep her down, it could be trouble."

"He's right you know," I whisper mockingly at her. "I _am_ trouble."

"I don't doubt that for a second, One, I just know that I'm not going down without a fight."

I smirk, rolling my eyes as I look over at Nico. His eyes connect with mine, and for a moment, we seem to be on the same level. He doesn't say anything or give any indication that he knows what I'm thinking. But I can tell he does, because straightaway, a smile cracks on his lips and his eyes say everything. I don't even like him, and yet, he understands me so perfectly. Ironic, really.

Then, all hell breaks loose. Branton makes the mistake of looking over at his beloved perched on top of me, and in that second, Nico acts. He manages to spin his arms around Branton's, grabbing them and pushing him back. He stumbles, trips and falls, which catches Twelve's attention. She makes the biggest mistake of her pathetic life. She lets her eyes snap to the movement behind her.

I managed to thrust all of my weight into her, knocking off of me like she weighed nothing. Her body lands harshly on the floor, wind knocked out and instantly, I'm on my feet, running and jumping onto her, knees digging into her elbows. She cries out in pain, so obviously, I dig in a little deeper. I'm not sadistic, I don't kill for fun like the other Careers, but really, I was taught to not show mercy. That's something Daddy taught me. Mercy means weakness and that's something that can't be shown in the arena.

Nico quickly launches forward, grabbing Branton by the cuffs of his uniform, slamming him against the wall, catching one of the lights. It cracks, hisses and shards of glass shower down.

But that stirs something.

Keeping my knees in the girl, I hear a rumble. Similar to the floor dropping, but a lot louder. When I look up, I notice the hole in the ceiling and my mind collects the pieces together, creating the puzzle. The ceiling collasped, rock and I'm guessing water caught them. But the rumbling is rocketing up there in the hole that lingers above all four of us.

I have no time to react. There's a roar, like an animal, and then rocks fall through. It doesn't catch me, but I see both Nico and Branton jumping to the side and then, there's nothing but rock separating the girls and the guys, like a divide. Floor to ceiling, nothing but stone.

Blaize looks horrified, but manages to take action. She tucks her knees in quick, stabbing me in the back. I wince, flinging off of her. She's up, rushing towards me and knocking me against the rock. It catches my head and I see some stars, but the red scorches through and anger rises me in quicker than before. I bring my hands up, grip her hair and swing her around, hard, straight into the wall. I hear a sickening crack and the colour slowly drains from her face. She looks at me, eyes losing colour and lips smiling weakly.

"You don't deserve to win," Blaize announces, blood dribbling down her chin. She stops, gurgles and manages to spit a wad of blood into my face. "Daddy's little princess is going to _die_."

The fire burns inside my blood. With her hair wrapped in my fists, I pull her back and jerk her forward once more, head slamming into the stone. I hear the same crack followed by a cannon. Her body crumples to the floor, smile still prominent on her face, dent in the back of her head, blood and fragments of her skull matted into her hair.

It takes a moment for me to calm down, sticky blood smothered over my face.

Well, at least I don't have to deal with Nico no more. Where I wanna be.. Alone.

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

The minute the rocks land, I can see Branton staring at the wall in disbelief. A cannon rockets and either way, a smirk creeps up onto my face. Perfect. Either way, Blaize or Diamond, someone died and that makes it easier for me. For a moment, I want it to be Diamond. With her down, I have the better chance of returning back to One a Victor. Then, maybe not.. If she survives, at least she can pick some more off. If it's Blaize, Branton will kick a storm that his girlfriend has been taken away by the cold teeth.

Before he reacts, though, I lunge forward and pin him to the floor.

"That was your lovely girlfriend, no doubt," I laugh in his face. "Such a shame, I mean, she actually had a lot of potential. But she stuck with you? Clearly there was no brain hidden beneath that red hair of hers."

"_Don't_ talk about her like that!"

I push him harder into the wall, noticing tears on the verge of his eyes. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Twelve, I have the upperhand here. Always did. You listen and you listen good. Maybe I should let you run away.. I mean, I get more aroused over the chase than the kill. It'd be fun to chase you down, capture and then kill. But then, why waste my energy? It takes a lot to look this beautiful.. Getting sweaty and dirty just won't cut it."

"Always about your looks.." Branton manages to croak out as a tear rolls down his cheek.

"Of course," I snort. "That's why I'll go far and _you_ won't."

He looks at me, dead in the eyes, glittering as the tears escape so freely. He's got it in his head that she has died. That his beloved didn't last against Diamond when it was just the two of them. Taking hold of his shoulders, I throw him onto the floor, hearing a small crack as his head slams against the floor. He looks around, up and down, dizzy and confused. I can see the small dampness of the blood against the rock from the throw.

But it doesn't deter him.

He's quick to his feet, and surprisingly, manages to push me back long enough to make a dash down the tunnel.

Might as well let him go. Catch him later, kill him later. Heck, someone else might get him. I have bigger fish to fry.

I walk over to the rocks that divided me and Diamond, hand lingering on the stone. I don't know what the feeling is, but something about me seems hollow. Maybe I do need someone, anyone, maybe I'm not capable of being on my own. I quickly shake the thought away, because hey, I'm perfect. I can do this. I can do this.

Grabbing my sword that managed to survive the fall, I stalk off the tunnel that Branton ran down, the haunting dripping following me. The noise even scares me. Too many surprises. Turning down another tunnel, I can see a stream of natural light coming from the tunnel, and squinting, I can make out the glistening gold surface of the Cornucopia shimmering against the sunlight. I walk towards, deciding that I might as well.

The sunlight beams down, and looking up, I can see the clouds rolling along the bright blue canvas, white orb perched to the side.

I'm too busy looking up to even notice the silver parachute fly down, white material dancing against the light breeze, a large object wrapped in it's strings. It lands before my feet, knocking my boot ever so slowly.

A smile plays on my lips, stretching out and reaching just underneath my eyes. I bend down, running my hand over the silver surface, finger tipping the point. It's beautiful, more beautiful than anything I've ever trained with. I drop my current sword, throwing it away as I scoop up my new, bigger, better and lighter sword, gold encrusted handle shimmering in the light. A simple note is attached.

_She's alive. You know what you have to do -T_

That I _do_, my dear Topaz.

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

My knife slices through the air, snagging itself against the wall, narrowly missing Demetria, who manages to duck just in time. I turn, seeing the dark smile on Kaden's lips.

"Thought you were supposed to be the best at knife throwing, Cam," Kaden smirks. "You're losing your touch."

"Shut your mouth."

I quickly bring another one up as I run after the pair, Kaden close behind me, axe swinging by his side. Demetria and Sorrel manage to duck around the corner, and for a moment, I smile. They won't last long. When we popped up in front of them, I could see Sorrel's anger on her face. She wanted to fight, and yet, Demetria ran and near abandoned her, if it wasn't for Sorrel admitting defeat and catching up.

"They're fast." Kaden breaths as we continue to run.

My heart slams against my chest, sending a wave of pain in my body. "I'm faster."

I pound my feet into the ground harder, desperate to keep going and catch them up. A knife slides down my arm, into my hand and then out, like an extension of my arm. It spins, dances and slashes just across Sorrel's arm as she jumps down a muddy slope, hand now clutching the blood flow. But my heart hurts too much, and without realising, I begin to slow down. Kaden catches up to me, smirking once more.

"Oh dear, the poor baby is out for the count," Kaden winks. "It's okay, baby, I'll go get them instead."

Kaden effortlessly jumps down the slope after them, axe being brought up to his head as he does it with perfection. I take a moment, steady my breathing and then jump after him, ignoring the pain that causes me to wince.

I land, stagger and then begin my run after Kaden, seeing his curly hair just at the end of the tunnel.

But my mind wonders to the possibility of Kaden and the many confusing emotions that surround him. I think he's okay, tolerable, maybe even a part of me likes him. But then, I'm using him for a reason. I need my big, bad bodyguard to protect and jump in front of an attack for me. He's not stupid, though, I can tell that much. He knows I'm playing him like a fiddle, yet, he goes along with it. Maybe he has a heart, somewhere, but the same could be the same about me.

My thoughts are cut off when I hear a laugh, followed by a shout.

I turn the corner, seeing Kaden facing down both Sorrel and Demetria. The laugh was his, the shout clearly Sorrel's.

"Well come on then! You think you're so tough, bring it, I'll take you down little boy!"

"Someone is _feisty_," Kaden laughs once more. "Don't _rush_ yourself, sweetheart. You have no chance in hell."

I walk up to him, smile playing on my lips. Demetria looks determined, also, but something about her posture tells me she's not looking forward to this compared to Sorrel, whose eyes are burning with anger, blood slowly dripping against the floor from her wound.

But I don't give either girl a chance. Once again, a knife slides down my arm and into my hand. I won't throw it this time, I wanna enjoy it. Sorrel cries out in anger, rushing forward with her scythe, which clashes against Kaden's axe, metal roaring out. I turn back, finding Demetria in my face, knife swinging rapidly. I dodge each attack easily, smiling all the while. Then, an idea sparks as I notice the muddy slope near Sorrel on our left.

I avoid one more slice, taking my own knife and slicing down Demetria's face. She screams, blood squirting out as she stumbles backwards. I tilt my head, looking at my piece of art. A deep, red line from her forehead to her chin, going straight over her right eye, blood gushing out of the orb that's been cut. My elbow connects with her head, she falls back and I take my chance. Hands thrusted against her, she falls straight into Sorrel, both girls tumbling down the slope, cries ringing out.

"Well done you, looks like the old girl has fire in her yet."

Anger burns in me. "That's _very_ true, sweetheart."

I play my smile, walking forward and wrapping my arm around his shoulder, hand gripped on his neck and jerking him forward, lips smashing against mine.

Then as I pull my lips apart, taking a breath, I see blood dripping down his chin, eyes wide and in shock. I stand back, noticing my knife twisted into his neck. He stumbles forward then backwards, falls on his knees and gurgles. I hear a cannon in the distance, followed by another which I know is his. So someone died before him, by mere seconds. Perfect.

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

I drop my scythe to the floor, blood scorching the ends as I stare at Demetria, face ripped open by Camila's knife, chest gauged open by my own scythe.

I can't believe it. The last few moments flash before my eyes, sweat dribbling down my face as I realise what I done.

We fell, Demetria crying out weakly. She landed on top of me, pressing my body against the stone. She looked horrible. Camila's knife had dragged straight across her face, mutilating it. I rolled her off me carefully, scared to do more damage. Then she asked me. She asked me to save her. She asked me to try and stop the bleeding, to try and stop her from dying.

Then it's all a blur and my scythe has stabbed a whole in her chest. Eyes dead, breathing gone and a small, but weak gasp on her face. Her cannon booms, followed by another and fear sinks in for the first time since arriving here. I pick the scythe up, blood dripping and just run. Run, run, run down the first tunnel I see, not stopping. Tears build up in my eyes, slowing me down to a halt. I breathe hard, desperate to rid myself of the memory as I slump to the floor against the wall.

She asked me to save her and I took her life.

She was going to die, I just made it painless.

I squeeze my eyes shut, a tear escaping as it rolls down my cheek. My emotions run high as I fall back into another memory.

I'm in the Justice Building, embracing Pickney, desperate to not let go. She whispers carefully into my ear, head pressed against mine.

"I don't want to die, Sorrel.. Save me, please.."

Pickney asked me to do something. Anything to actually stop her from going. I could have grabbed her, run and abandoned Eleven. I could have actually done something but I didn't. I just whimpered as they dragged me out of the room. I watched her in the Ceremony, her training score, rising on the platform and then Lagoon taking her out.

She asked me to do something and I just let her die.

"I don't want to die, Sorrel.. Save me, please.."

Then, her face is replaced by Demetria, crying similar words. She asked me to do something and I killed her.

"S-Save me Sorrel, t-take the pain away.."

Two lives, both asking me to do something and both ended up dying.

The emotions, the feelings.. All the same. All the same and I did nothing because I'm heartless. Because I was normal until they took Pickney away from me. I was nothing more than an average girl before Pickney's reaping. The Capitol changed me, made me cold and then threw me in here, where Demetria could say the same words and remind me of what I used to be. How I used to take the easy option and run with it.

Not this time. At least Demetria didn't suffer anymore. She asked me to do something and I did. I stopped her pain.

Grabbing the scythe, I stand up, a newfound fire inside of me roaring away.

I'm going home. I don't care _what_ I have to do.

* * *

**Femme Fatale by Velvet Underground.**

**I've deleted the website and created a simple, easy to use blog instead. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Blaize Diano, District Twelve.**

**Demetria Greene, District Ten.**

**Kaden Hallory, District Two.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

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**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead.. Voting is allowed on your own tribute.**

* * *

**Sorry for the massive delay. I had problems with where to go, who to kill and so forth. I lost the momentum slightly.. But no worries, I am back! Expect frequent updates from now on. I will complete this story and I will have a winner!**

**I feel like this chapter sucks. Feel free to tell me this. I shall now rant about how people don't care for their tributes. I'm serious, here, for a writer who actually makes himself ill to try and write for you guys, it's discouraging. If you don't care for your tribute, let me know so I can kill them. Why should I keep them on when you don't care one bit? You people shouldn't even be allowed to submit tributes. Most of them end up being rubbish and like cardboard anyway, where I have to step in and make them something because clearly you lack creativity, yet, you sit in a fandom where making characters is a big thing. You should be ashamed of yourselves.**

**Message me if you don't like to review. Your tribute can die and then I don't have to make myself ill worrying about how to take your boring, 2D character and trying to make them something. Thank you.**

**Rant over. Ugh.**


	13. Mad World

_All around me are familiar faces,_  
_Worn out places, worn out faces,_  
_Bright and early for their daily races,_  
_Going nowhere, going nowhere._  
_Their tears are filling up their glasses,_  
_No expression, no expression,_  
_Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow,_  
_No tomorrow, no tomorrow._

_And I find it kinda funny,_  
_I find it kinda sad._  
_The dreams in which I'm dying,_  
_Are the best I've ever had._  
_I find it hard to tell you,_  
_I find it hard to take._  
_When people run in circles,_  
_It's a very, very mad world mad world._

* * *

**Troy Reed.**

I smile as I watch her from Eleven fall to the floor, tears streaming down her oh so pretty face. It's amusing, really, the way someone who I thought was so cold ended up being like the rest. Weak. Showing emotions is weak. Nothing good ever comes from it, except pain and really, I'd rather be dishing that out than actually finding out what having a heart is like. Call me cold, I don't care. I like to think I'm unique, not a sheep, something worth happening in this world.

When she shakes her emotions and grips her scythe, I'm so tempted to just jump out. Jump out and take her out. It would be simple. Better yet, I could just throw my spear from here. Spiral through the air, land straight into her body and she won't even know what would hit her until it was too late.

As she begins to walk away, I step out the darkness.

She does have much time to catch on, but I let the spear slide straight from my hand and into the air, metal arrowhead carving through the room. She catches on, though, and manages to duck just out of the way, like before, arrowhead piercing the ground just where her feet were minutes before.

She turns to face me, raising the scythe and when I notice the slight drop of blood hitting the ground, I smile.

"So you've made a kill," I laugh. "Looks like this is going to be more interesting then I thought. I was kinda hoping you'd be able to fight, since I remember the fight between you and Diamond back at the bloodbath. You had some skills, I like that."

"Seriously, you better get the fuck away from here you little hobbit." Eleven hisses as she kicks away the spear spiked in the ground.

"Why would I do that?" I walk forward slowly. "I _want_ to win, don't you see that? You actually think you have some chance? Eleven, you're from a poor district. You have _no_ chance so I wouldn't get your hopes up. Just be glad you'll be killed by me. Heck, the cameras will be watching us now. I guarantee you'll go down in history for what I do with you."

Eleven laughs darkly. Confident, are we?

"Firstly, I have a name. Sorrel. And secondly, maybe you shouldn't feel so good about yourself. After all, you have no weapon and really, someone is just a little bit big for their boots. And I'm referring to your ego, not just your size."

Without thinking, anger boils up in me.

I dash forward, springing off the ground on both feet. Sorrel takes a swing with her scythe, but luckily, my foot connects with her hand and she loses her grip on the weapon. It clatters to the floor and she looks up, just in time for my knee to meet her stomach. She staggers back, looks down and I'm running forward, pouncing and taking her to the ground. We land with a thud, my right hand getting scratched by the stone but I don't feel a thing.

"You know, back in Four, I used to play this little game," I chuckle as she squirms underneath me. "I used to go out in Four, find animals and kill them. But not just kill them. Mutilate them. Rip their heads off, cut their bodies open, gouge their eyes out and you wanna know something? I used to go back home and give them to my parents for a present. They never did quite _appreciate_ the hard thought I put into things. Just a shame that I can't take you home to show them. They would be so proud. Finally, they would be able to look at me and for once, I would see the fear I've been _craving_ to see from them for all these years."

"You're a _sick_ little boy, you know that?"

"I live off those words. Heard them my _whole_ life."

I bring my fist back and swing it down, but Sorrel dodges at the last second, knuckles hitting the Earth. She takes advantage of the situation, throwing me off of her. We're both on our feet within second, me dashing back to my spear. For some reason, I'm off my game. As my fingers curl around the weapon, Sorrel delivers a kick to my stomach, steel cap of her boot cutting into my body. Blood builds up and dribbles over my chin, but as I look up, Sorrel's gone.

I missed my chance.

"Fuck it," I hiss, finally grabbing the spear and hurling it against the wall at the intersection in anger.

But as it hits, I hear a squeak. A quiet but definite squeak. No-one got hit, I can see that clearly. But someone's there. I wipe the blood from my face before I run out with a moments hesitation, pulling the spear out of the wall and turning, noticing her with wide eyes, backing up quickly before she breaks out into a sprint, running away, her long brown hair dancing.

Hello, Three, lets _play_, shall we?

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

Such a stupid child.

Dangling the backpacks in my hand, I laugh. He shouldn't have tried that. I mean, it was pretty pathetic. Should have known taking on a girl older and bigger than him was a bit of a step too far. A bit too reckless, if you ask me. But finally, things are looking up. I managed to snag two backpacks from the shrimp, got Seven's hatchet and so far, haven't run into anyone worth fighting. Cannon after cannon sound, and really, it's just more steps to going home.

Back to the shop with my brothers.

Back to my life which I didn't deserve to be ripped from. Other kids deserved it more than me. Call me a bitch, but I'm decent compared to some of the bitches in Six. I have more of a future head of me compared to the airheads and girly girls. My life is worth living for, yet, I'm now an animal playing in a maze, waiting to kill or be killed.

On the bright side, though, at least people are dying and I haven't needed to do anything.

Sure, I killed Halston. But it was beyond necessary. The psycho was going to try and kill me, just because he was a little bit fucked up in the head. I stop, dropping the bags to the floor and pulling forth an apple from one. Biting down, I let the tastes run over my tongue. Maybe I should have killed the kid. I mean, he could have had more good stuff in those bags. More food, weapons, items for survival. But I dunno... Something stirred in me and for that moment, I couldn't be asked. I could have killed him, easily in fact, but something stopped me and that's simply because I didn't need too. He wouldn't last long on his own, anyway.

Plus, you have to admire his bravery just a little bit. It was both reckless and pathetic, with a hint of the boy having balls. And anyway, he's not my target. If I have to bump into someone down here, anyone, I want it to be Camila. I want to see her face duck around the next corner. I want to see her eyes wide with bloodlust. I want to fight her, not egotistical midgets that think too highly of themselves. I want to cut down her. No-one else but her.

I don't even care if I die, as long as she goes before me.

I slide down the first dirt slope I see, following the dripping sound.

Maybe it will lead to water? Fuck knows. I've given up guessing with his place. It's too high maintenance.

_Eeeeeeeek!_

I freeze, blood going cold. My fingers grip onto the hatchet, body turning around to face the noise piercing through the air. It sounds horrible, like an animal. Different kinds of mutts I've seen in the past flash through my mind, quickly, trying to decipher which one could be now behind me. The noise rockets through again, closer.

I don't think after that. I run, legs moving as quickly as they can.

I pass tunnel after tunnel, noise following me and hatchet swinging. As I turn the corner, I catch my shoulder, knocking my arm back and a wave of pain washes over me. I scream, dropping the hatchet as I clutch the bruised body part. It hurts. Like a million stings from a bee, jabbing into my flesh. Something thumps hard into knee, followed by another in my back. It doesn't hurt, almost like someone throwing a brick at my body. I tumble, sprawled out and as I do, I feel my body going heavy, millions of jabs going against my skin. It stings, it burns, it's a mixture of pain I've never felt before. I roll over, catching my shoulder once more and shield my face with my arms.

They hit me again.

And again.

And again.

Stars pepper my vision. I can barely see. All I know is, this is something not human. This isn't a tribute.

Another hit.

And another.

My mind spins, swirls and I can barely understand the world anymore. When I peel open my eye, I see a large black cloud, fluttering above me. I strain my eyes, wondering what it is. Then it registers. Clouds don't move like that. My pain catches up me, like a car within the garage I work has dropped onto my body. Everything is numb.

But as I fall deeper into the darkness, I can see red. Red, beady eyes and I work it out, too late.

Bats. _Bat Mutts_.

* * *

**Branton Callahan.**

Blaize.

I squeeze my eyes shut, praying this is just a nightmare. She can't be gone. She just can't. It's not real. It's not real. I need her. I need her more than I've ever needed someone. We may not get on, we may be polar opposites, but I need her. She's not gone.

No, of course she isn't.

She's Blaize. Witty, sarcastic and mean Blaize. She's the girl that doesn't laugh at my jokes like everyone else. She's the girl that puts me back into my place. She's the girl that protected me, like I tried to do for her. She's my kiss. My reality. She keeps me grounded when I want to rise. Blaize is too strong to go down without fighting. Diamond had no chance. No chance in hell. Nico is wrong and I'm right. Diamond died and Blaize survived.

Tears roll down my cheek, almost like someone dancing on my eyeballs.

I look up, and through the blurred vision, I can see the warm glow of the light, contrasting with the darkness from the tunnel. I pull my knees in closer, wrapping my arms around it and rest my head onto them. Her face, her hair, her smell flashes through me. She's still here. I can tell so. I'm not wrong, I'm never wrong.

The anthem blares through the walls, shaking the structure.

The seal comes up, followed by the face. When I notice it's not Diamond, being from One she should be first, my heart falls.

No.

No.

_No_.

This isn't real. This _isn't_ real. Then, everything I've never wanted, happens. She appears, tight smile and eyes flared forward, a fire in her eyes I've never noticed before. They were long extinguished when we arrived here from the sky. Then, she disappears. Blaize, gone, for _good_. By now, she's in a wooden coffin, returning back to Twelve. Back to her family. Back to her sister. She's going to be with her sister now, watching me, cheering me on.

I take a deep breath.

I need to do this.

But my body disagrees. I bend over, vomitting loud against the wall. It comes out, bile, green and yellow. She's gone. It comes up again, even stronger, acid burning the back of my throat and ripping the flesh.

It's the only way left. I stand up, legs rocking back and forth as the tears quicken. Then, I catch the blur of silver and white, the parachute drifting neatly from the ceiling. This definitely couldn't be mine. It lands, nudging against my foot. Pulling the string off, I open the canister, noticing the letter and a small, white tube.

_Quit being a baby and do something about it. -A_

I open the bottle, pulling out the green pill and swallowing, instantly feeling the warmth inside of me, rather than the burning. It's like a drug, calming me.

I have to do this. If not for me, then for Blaize.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

The noise catches my attention, the sound of animals, bats I guess, filling a tunnel nearby. I don't hear any screams, but someone is out there. There has to be. Otherwise, what's the point of setting mutts out so early?

"Guess someone's coming," Everest whispers, sitting on the floor. I turn, looking at him with a puzzled look. "I mean, someone is getting near us or the bats are for us. You can never be so sure."

"How do you know they're bats?"

"Back on the farm, at night, you could hear them in the barn bit. Twittering around like lost birds, only darker and more like screeches. Nasty little things."

Curiousity gets the better of me and I walk over, sitting down next to him, wrapping my arms around my knees. "You never speak about your life, Ev. I mean, I don't either, but with you, it's different."

Everest laughs. "How so?"

"You have this mysterious aura to you, like, you seem protective but I feel like there's more than that."

His smile reaches underneath his eyes, the small lines crinkling, eyes glistening like the water nearby. "I've had my fair share of problems."

Without even thinking, I want to know more. I edge closer, a smile on my face, pushing back the voice further into my head. Not now. Not ever, but like that's actually going to happen. I touch his knee, urging him on. "If you wanna tell me, you can."

"Okay.. Where to begin? It happened one night. I don't remember when, but I was thirteen. My twin sister, Trinity, was out in the farm checking on the animals. They just came in out of nowhere. Attacked me, my mom and my dad. My dad, he err.. He didn't survive and after that, my mom might as well have died as well cause it changed her. She tried to kill me and Trinity four times after that as I got older."

My heart lurches.

_Rye, he's like you! He's weak and fucked-up. You two could be the same person._

"Then what.. Then what happened?"

The words come out choked and it's not until Everest laughs lightly, swiping at my face and catching a tear, do I realise I've been crying. Veena used to be able to take _him_ away. Everest could still do it, but _he's_ still there, tormenting me. And now, I can see I'm a lot more like Everest than I ever could have imagined.

"It's okay, don't be sad.. She's gone now. She set the house on fire. Again, Trinity wasn't there. The girl has mad luck. I had to jump from the upstairs window, that's how I got the limp. Never gone, really, it varies on pain."

I link my hand with his, squeezing it reassuringly.

"You're not supposed to be sad, you're supposed to be comforting me," Everest jokes. "Enough with the sadness, though. I don't like it. Not when we're in here, suffering. If I have to, I'd rather try and enjoy it as much as possible."

_You're wasting time and energy. You should kill him. C'mon, Rye, grow some balls and do it!_

I grip my head, the flesh pounding against my skull. It's getting worse.

And sooner or later, I _won't_ be able to control it anymore. I look over at Everest, whose moving to grab something from the backpack. If he's around, it's going to be him and I don't want that. He doesn't deserve it. If anything, it should be _me_.

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

My heart is hammering against my chest as I turn another corner. He's _going_ to catch up. He's _going_ to get me and I'm going to be just _another_ name to his list. Everyone I've ever remotely cared about, he's killed.

Glitch. Woods. Crew.

Everyone I've ever grown the slightest bit attached too, Troy has made it his mission to rip them away from me. It's like he enjoys torturing me when I've done nothing wrong to him. But then again, a murderous Career against a reaped.. It's almost cliche.

I run along another tunnel, hearing his dark laugh following me.

"You can't run forever, Three! I will get you and kill you!"

I can't pull my mind around it. Why me? 23 other kids and he's chosen to make my life a living hell. I just don't understand or like it. I hear the sound of metal slicing through air, and surprisingly, I managed to dodge, just barely missing it. Something surges inside of me, and quickly, as the spear stabs the wall I'm running too, I grab the weapon, stopping and snapping it against my knee, before running off.

Troy's caught up now after I slowed down. But I managed to take out his weapon, which is good, I guess.

"You're going to fucking die, Three!"

I turn another corner, seeing a slope and taking it. It might give me the chance to hide but I can't do that anymore. Numbers are dying down and I need to step up. Glitch, Woods, Crew, they've all died in vain and now, I guess, I'm like their avenger. As I stagger on my feet, my mind whirls as I begin to creep off down another tunnel, hearing Troy stopping up top and cursing loud. He'll find me. I need to be prepared.

My heart stops as the amber glow shows me I've hit a dead end. I spin, noticing the same. I'm trapped. A small, tunnel, only way in and out being that slope. The lights flicker, my mind spins. What can I do? I could wait. Wait until he's gone. I could fight, probably lose but at least try. I could hide, but I've done that enough.

Or I could do what I've always done best at; traps.

I could build something, but what? I have nothing. I have no idea how to make something out of literally nothing. But I have no choice. I've been thrown in here, the least I could do is at least try. My hand dips into my pocket, pulling forth Glitch's button and Crew's bracelet. Both boys are with me. Somewhere, out there, they going home. I have them with me, though, no matter what. The flicker of the light catches my attention, though. I get it. I know what to do now.

Stepping back, I take a sigh and prepare myself. It could go wrong. So easily, painfully wrong.

No backing out now.

I scream as loud as I can, backing myself up against the back wall as I breathe, body going cold as I see Troy sliding to a stop near the slope. He turns, laughs darkly and moves forward.

"Why, hello there, Three."

"Why?"

"Why what?" Troy reaches the light, face alight by the glow.

"Why did you choose me over so many others? Why did I have to suffer?"

Troy laughs, crossing his arms. "You know why, stupid girl. You asked for it during the ceremony."

I can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe it. "By looking at you? Are you that fucked up in the head?"

"Everyone says that so I guess it must be true. But yeah, you looked at me. But not scared or even like you had a chance. You looked down at me, like I was nothing more than a child."

Fear bubbles inside me. Did I really do that? I couldn't. He must be seeing what he wanted to see. "No.."

"Yes. You may not have realised, but I could see it. The glimmer of superiority. You wrote your own death wish, Three."

He steps forward just an inch more, hands raising, fingers curls into a fist. He's ready to fight. It's now or never. Just an inch or more. Just a tiny bit more and then it will happen. He smirks and steps forward once more, barely a few inches from me, lined up with the light perfectly. He takes a swing, the fist connecting with my jaw. I fall to the floor and as he towers over me, I can see the light struggling.

Without warning, as Troy lifts his boot to crush my head, the light explodes. Glass and pieces of wood spit at Troy's face and he hisses, clutching the torn flesh, littered with red lines.

It worked. Glitch's button, buried in deep to make the light explode. Crew's wooden bracelet, broken and hidden with the button to double the shrapnel.

As Troy is blinded, I stagger to my feet, pushing him hard with both my hands. I watch his body fall to the floor, blonde hair sprawled out against the stone. Quickly, I pull the knife from my boot and jump on his body, driving it straight into his body with a second thought. He gasps and smiles.

"I doubted you.." Troy coughs up blood. "I'll never be away from you. Close your eyes and I'll be there, Three. I'll be in your n-nightmares, y-your dreams. You'll n-n-never get rid of me. E-Ever."

A cannon booms through the arena. It's funny, actually. I killed him with help from Glitch and Crew, the two not even realising they saved my life when they gave me the items. I stand back, allowing the metal teeth to eat Troy and pull him through the ceiling once more.

I'm free. For now.

* * *

**Mad World by Gary Jules.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Troy Reed, District Four.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**

**If you want, vote for your own tribute, it's allowed.**

* * *

**Sorry for my rant last chapter. I needed to get it out there, you know? Some people really do know how to make themselves complete idiots. But yeah, enough of that. I have started _Child's Play _as well, well, I'm planning on it now! If you want, check that out? I know some of you have tributes in that, so, yeah.**

**Enough from me. I now have a good guideline on what to do for the rest of this story. Voting has changed, please take notice of that. Since we're in our final 10, I only want 2 votes now. Only two tributes can be chosen.**


	14. Save Us

_Simple words we never knew,_  
_The power behind what they put us through,_  
_Now it's all begun._  
_What it takes to make it real._  
_We're standing on the edge of this,_  
_When our soul is gone what will we miss?_  
_We lost what it takes to really make it feel._

_But the better days behind us now,_  
_We all need someone to tell us how_  
_To save the state of where we are,_  
_It keeps demanding more and more and more._  
_And who will save us?_  
_This can't go on, without the meaning in the rhyming._  
_Can you save, and can you save us?_  
_Oh I can't go on out of rhythm with our time._

* * *

**Sorrel Springfield.**

It doesn't take me long to get away from Troy. Surprisingly, I thought he would give chase, but he didn't. He left me alone. I _should_ have killed him. A part of me wanted too. A part of me wanted to drive the scythe straight through his non-existant heart and be done with it. Getting to imagine the beautiful face of his mentor, distraught, knowing that he just let a child die. I want Lagoon to feel _pain_ for killing Pickney, for taking her away from me, for leaving me to face the world on my own.

A cannon shoots through the arena, causing me to slam myself against the wall in fear.

Something I've learned about this place... You walk in thinking you're near invincible, and then, your reality gets shattered.

It must be near night, since straight after, the anthem plays and the seal dances on the rock ceiling. I can't fight the smile and inner anger that plays around when Troy's face appears, looking almost exactly like Lagoon. It's crazy, actually, how I've never picked up on it until now. Troy looks almost exactly like the kid that killed my sister. Could be relatives.

Makes my whole crusade that much more poetic, really.

I've made it to the final ten.

He just narrowed the numbers down.

I carry on my walk, swinging the scythe down by my side before bringing it close to my chest, like I can't decide. This place seems a lot smaller, come to think of it. Everything seems to shrink in size bit by bit. Then, my heart stops. I hear the sound of metal screeching. I've heard this before, so many times, but the first thought that comes to mind was right at the beginning of the Games, not long after the bloodbath. It was like an explosion of some sorts.

My feet begin to run, pounding against the stone.

But the noise suddenly grows quieter and quieter, and for now, my heart returns to a normal beat.

My legs soon find no ground and my body is dropping. I slam against the floor, wind knocked out of me, scythe clanging around in the darkness. The first thing that registers is that all the lights are gone the minute I touched the ground. But not like they normally are, no, that would make things too easy for us.

The lights on the wall have shrunk into what seems to be holes. I can see light, artificial, but not from the lamps. It's from my belt. The soft warm glow lights up the area in front of me, but that's it. The lights were there before I fell, but down here, they've gone. Everyone else has lights... I have a flashlight.

I can't see more than a few feet in front. Everything else is pitch black. Darkness fills every corner of the area except the small patch of light my flashlight creates. The metal noise begins again, but I don't have time to think about that. I'm running, before hitting solid wall. My hands scrape against the stone, putting small cuts into my skin. I follow the wall, hitting a corner before another wall. I repeat it until I finally know what's happened.

I'm in a room.

Trapped.

I fall to my knees, scrambling for my scythe. Anything could happen, I need to be ready, I need to be prepared.

The glow doesn't do much to help me. It hits the ground underneath my stomach. The worst thing is, I have no idea how big the room actually is. It could be big or small, I have no idea what. Finally, my hand touches something metal and my body feels with glee as I wrap my hand around the warming feel of my scythe. The warmth of protection and safety, rather than vulnerability. The metal noise comes to a halt.

I stand, heart thumping, threatening to just break out of my chest. Stupid Gamemakers and their fucking mind twists.

Trying to scare me to death isn't exactly going to be that entertaining to watch.

I try to think back to happier times. Back to Eleven and trees, warm skies with puffy clouds and sun. Pickney and me, swinging our scythes illegally, smiling at the act of rebellion. And now, she's underground in a box and well, I'm in a box, more than likely underground. I have no supplies. Just me and my weapon. Without realising, I'm walking around. But the ground is soft and the sound of the water dripping is more like a gush. I drop my hand, noticing a small pile of water forming. I splash my feet just to make sure. It's getting deeper. They are filling water up in the box. My heart begins to thump as I start banging against the wall, fear building inside.

"Help! Get me out of here!"

The water responds by getting louder. By now, it's reaching my knees. It's fast, I'm trapped and fuck, I'd rather be killed by a kid than a stupid Gamemaker's toy. The water begins to reach my waist, catching the flashlight and making the illumination crackle. It makes a soft glow against the waters edge, but really, that only indicates my worst fear.

They're trying to drown me. The light catches what seems to be a shadow in the water, except, it's not a thing. It looks like a hole in the far corner, almost like a tunnel. Underwater tunnel.

Oh well, it's either dying in here or killing out there. I take a large breath, before ducking under and attempting to swim, scythe still in hand. Fucking Gamemakers.

* * *

**Diamond Lacette.**

When I hear the noise, it doesn't faze me. Nothing really fazes me anymore. Daddy could never have prepared for what all this was, but at least my training has paid off in some aspect. My looks will get me sponsors. My skills will stop pathetic reapers from killing me. All that I have to worry about is what the Gamemakers have for me. The final ten is a great number to get too, amazing, really, but it comes at a price.

The Games get harder.

_Much_ harder.

Soon, an announcement will be made and the feast will happen. Mutts should be set loose around this time and more importantly, more tricks. It's a certain. I've watched so many other Games, it's become repetitive. I roughly know the outline of everything, just not the content. But that's not something Daddy could have taught me anyway. I can hear the faint sound of metal, but that's not something to worry about. It sounds distant. Probably some other unlucky tribute walking straight into a trap. I continute my path, refusing to go either up or down.

That's not exactly going to help me, really. It'll confuse me. I still have both Nico and Camila to worry about. Kaden, Nerine and Troy, dead. Nico... I could probably beat him hand-to-hand if necessary. Camila... I don't know if I could avoid her knives. It'll be about trying to sneak up behind her and grab her like that. Snap her pretty little neck with a twist. Maybe jab her in the eyes with my all too perfect nails.

Pluck those orbs from her skull.

Possible. Easily possible. I could do it without batting an eyelash.

I hear the water picking up, sloshing against the stone. It's quite melodic, actually. I sit down, leaning my head against the back of the wall, wanting to rest. My eyelids close, darkness pulling me into a slumber.

"Diamond..."

I stir, hearing the familiar voice.

"Diamond..."

When I peel my eyelids open, I see his face, annoyingly. Nico, staring at me with a mighty sword wrapped up in his fist.

"Good morning _sweetheart_, rise and shine." Nico grins.

"_Seriously_? I thought I lost you."

"Well, I found you, so be greatful. I mean, the odds are in our favour, Di. Camila is the only Career left and she's too busy wanting to kill Boy Cut. You and me have the best chances."

"Your point being?" I stand up, using my fist to rub at my eyes. "I thought when we got separated, we would stay that way."

"Someone woke up badly..." Nico frowns, stepping back. "I just thought it would be fun, you know. The finals being you and me. You want to kill me, I want to kill you, I think it would be entertaining. Gruesome, _but_, entertaining nonetheless.

He catches my attention with that. But it doesn't work. "No. I want to be alone, Nico. Alone. A simple word _you_ should learn to use."

I turn my back on him, walking away, but he grabs my shoulder, pulling me around. It doesn't take long for my reflexes to kick in. I ball up my other fist, sending it into his gut. He groans and stumbles back a little, looking like a wounded puppy. His face flushes red before he crosses his arms.

"Fine."

He turns his back, I turn mine, ready to leave. This time, I don't hear him until the last minute. I try to spin around, but his sword catches my wrist, slicing across the vulnerable flesh harshly, blood pouring from the wound like water from a tap. I groan, but that doesn't stop me. I flick my leg out, connecting with his knee in a crunch. That only makes him more angry. His sword rises one more time, my eyes traced along the silver. But instead, his foot kicks forward and I don't know whether it's because I'm losing blood or he's quick, I have no idea, but it connects with my stomach, knocking me to the floor.

He takes his sword down, slashing along my other wrist, more seering pain and blood.

I won't go down without a fight. Despite the scorching pain in my wrists, I manage to kick out enough to sweep at his ankle, sending Nico to the floor. He reacts quickly, launching across the ground and slapping me across the face. It takes a second to stop seeing stars, before I try to lash out, only to find him standing above me, having moved in my moment of confusion.

"You know what? _Screw_ what Topaz said. _You_ aren't worth of _my_ time," Nico sneers as I lay there, bleeding wrists on show. I can practically feel anger and pain bubbling in my body. "You could have just _worked_ with me. Picked off the other losers before an epic showdown. But no, you're Savoy's daughter, _so_ far up her own ass, she can't _smell_ reality anymore. I hope you die slowly and painfully. _Nice_ knowing you, Di."

He steps forward, raising the sword high before stabbing it down into my knee. I hear a crunch, veins and bones being sliced, before a screech leaves my body.

"So long, _beautiful_."

I feel his sword leave my body but that makes it worse. I can feel the blood leaving quickly. I can feel the air brushing against my exposed wound. Darkness begins to pull in, my head becoming light. Everything suddenly seems so quiet. All I can hear is the dripping sound of my blood hitting the ground. The pulsating rhythm in my head. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the mutted sound of a cannon before everything becomes deadly quiet and the pain goes.

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

It takes a second to count who I know is still alive. Who the new death could be. Diamond and Nico are still alive, so is the brat from Three. Nine and Ten, plus her from Eleven and the miracle that is the boy from Twelve. Oh, lets not forget Six. She's still there. I smile as I realise now, there is only nine. I just hope that new death isn't Six.

It wouldn't be fair if someone else got her.

I made it clear that she was mine, that no-one else was to touch her. Both Nico and Diamond knew that, and really, they are the only ones capable of killing her. I'll admit, for a reaped, she's awfully clever. She has some limited skill. No common sense, but a deep rooted survival instinct that keeps her going. She would have been dead by now if she had been brave enough to actually take me on. All she has to do is walk around that corner and my pretty little knife will be lodged in her skull before she can blink.

I turn the next corner, expecting to find some tribute.

Anything.

Even a mutt would do. Right now, I don't care what I have to fight, but I need something. All this annoyance and anger bubbling inside of me, I need to release it. So far, my kill list isn't that impressive. Shrimpy and Kaden. Actually, killing a Career should count as two. That's my kills. Not _great_ but not too bad. I'm equal with Diamond, probably around the same as Nico.

Instead, I'm faced with a dead end. That's happened a lot, actually. I keep finding dead ends. It seems the less tributes there are, the less tunnels are here. When a tribute dies, a tunnel seems to close up. I get it, now. Because we're growing smaller, they're shrinking the arena to push us together more since it's a bit too early for the feast. But where would be big enough for the feast? Usually, it's around the Cornucopia, but I don't know how to get there or anything.

I'm too far down.

I stop, hearing the faint drum of wings flapping. I duck to the ground just in time for what seems to be bats, swarming above me. They don't stop, though. For some reason, they keep going, as if moving away from something. They soon disappear, but I can't help but not feel settled. Something wasn't right about that.

I can't push the thought away as I carry on walking, flipping my knives between my hands. I'm great with both so it won't matter too much. I reach a bunch of stairs, which I climb, before dropping down a slope nearby. After a bunch more turns, I find myself facing a very familiar dead end. When I touch it, I know this rock. It's the same rock from earlier. I'm walking around in circles.

_Fuck_.

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

I can see from, sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. Stupid girl. The things that attacked seemed to have gone, run away, like the girl was some disease. It was normal. No way would Gamemakers call off Mutts so early on. Unless... Unless there are more. That would make sense. Use the bats to create some distraction, some false hope in the tributes into thinking they are the only Mutts we'll face.

Then bring out something more terrifying and nasty to counter that.

False hope followed by the harsh slap of reality.

I have to admit, nice job. That's something I would think of. I could be a Gamemaker, actually. I could create something so complex and creative, it would blow the tributes' little minds away. I stalk from the shadows, approaching Six. Her hatchet is shining next to her, useless. I quickly take the item, deciding she shouldn't have it, she's far too reckless. Her skin is picked with red spots, little bites littering up her bare arms and face, pale skin marred.

She looks _disgusting_.

Like she's developed some disease.

Sorta fits her, really. Bending over, I take the hatchet and cut into her arm ever so lightly, enough to make a small red line, a dribble of blood running down her skin. Why? Well, I might as well get some entertainment. I don't feel like killing her. She let me go, after all, and despite being so vulnerable right now, I just can't. Maybe I'm not so cruel. I think I would rather have her awake when I kill her.

Lifting the hatchet, I take another slow swipe.

Then another.

Until finally, there is a criss-cross pattern on her upper arm. I want to make her paranoid. She probably knows what attacked her, but, she doesn't know what they do. I want her to think she was scarred, hurt, by the bats. The hatchet lingers over her hand, and for a moment, I think I should just chop it off. Make her lose a hand just like that. But something rustles. I hear faint footsteps, hidden by the sound of soft sobbing.

Quickly, I grab the hatchet and dart into a nearby tunnel, praying I wasn't noticed. Six is completely oblivious as him from Twelve, Branton, appears. He stalks towards her, and for a moment, I don't understand why he's crying.

Soft tears stream his face as he bends over, pressing two fingers to Ryder's neck. He stands up, just looking at her for a moment, before picking out a knife from his boot.

"I'm so sorry..." Branton mutters. "I'm_ s-so_ sorry..."

He raises the knife as he bends down, letting the weapon aim over Ryder's heart. No. I don't know what comes over me, but before I know it, I'm walking out, hatchet hidden behind my back.

"Don't kill her."

Branton looks up. "Eight... W-What are you doing here?"

Stupid boy. "Hiding..."

His knife drops from his hand as he staggers back, as if he couldn't understand what he was doing. Tears quicken as they leave his eyes, his legs slowly dropping to his knees, shaking violently. I step forward, Branton oblivious to everything around him.

"We can work together..." I mumble. "You and me, Ryder when she wakes up... We can band together."

Through his sobs, Branton laughs dryly and broken. "Sorry, kid, but this _isn't_ a team game. Working together just doesn't work."

Another step. "I'm sorry Blaize is dead."

His breath hitches, and for a moment, I think he's going to grab the knife and just stab me. Paranoia gets to me, though. He opens his mouth, but I don't think. The hatchet comes out, and with as much force my little body can summon, I bring it down on his shoulder blade. He yelps, falling back. He claws at the ground for the knife. But I hack at his leg, making another cut followed by another yelp. He tries again, I cut his leg again, he yelps again.

By now, a decent amount of blood is pooling around his wounds. He looks at me, seeming to give up.

"A-At least I'll be back with her... D-D-Do it."

I nod with a smile, bringing the hatchet down onto his chest, blood splattering out in all directions. A cannon shakes the tunnel, but I don't care. I turn to Ryder, finding her still unconscious. No, one kill was enough for now. I drop the hatchet, unable to carry it with me. It's far too heavy and really, I don't even understand how I've done so much already. She can have it, cause when Camila finds her, she'll need it and frankly, I'd rather Ryder kill Camila then vice-versa.

It heightens _my_ chances.

* * *

**Everest Sawyer.**

"You _never_ talk about your life, Rye."

Rye looks up from his position on his back on the ground, confusion spreading over his eyes. "There's not much to talk about."

"No family? Nothing like that?"

Rye just shakes his head, dismissing any chance for a talk. "I don't like talking about them. It's nothing against you, Everest, honestly, it's just... I don't think the place or time is suitable, you know? Their names shouldn't be mentioned in a place like this."

I smile at that. "You have sisters, don't you?"

Rye nods, biting on his lip. He's always such a gentleman. Never likes to hurt girls or anything. Even now, when he could die if I die before him, he doesn't want to taint their names. I can see why Veena liked him so much. I shuffle closer, feeling just a tad protective over him. Silence falls, but even though we don't say anything, it's a comfortable silence. Just content with each others company. The water from the spring laps against the rocky cove, rushing and slowly at different rates. The crystals from up above shine and shimmer, making pretty patterns on the cerulean blue water.

From there, I turn my head, noticing the three tunnels that lead in here. It's a large cavern. Enough for the feast, at least, but by the time that happens, me and Rye will be long gone. They'll come here, we'll go somewhere else. Then, when it comes down to it, it'll be me and him and I won't let him die.

Over time, I've learned that Rye seems to _deserve_ to win.

That's why Veena jumped in front of him. She saw the innocent boy that deserves to win. I see it too. I hear the faint sound of snoring, and when I turn to face Rye, I can see he's curled up against my body, voice muffled against his arms that cover his face. I rest back, letting the sleep win me over, knowing that next to Rye is a good place to be.

A cannon booms and scares me awake. The first thing I do is check on Rye, hoping he wasn't too scared. Instead, I don't see him. I look over at the spring, taking note of how I have to squint. The lights are losing their power. Maybe that's another trick. Then, I see Rye, climbing back up the ledge, bottle of water in his hand.

"Sorry, I thought I should get you some water... You might be thirsty." Rye smiles.

I take the bottle from him, gulping down half before handing it back and offering a smile as he stands in front of me. "Thank you."

"The lights are going."

"What?"

Rye laughs, pointing over to the tunnels. "When I woke up, I noticed it was darker. I took a little walk into that tunnel, to find that the lights are dimming. The bulbs are dying. Remember back when you got our outfits, did your stylist say _anything_ to you?"

Picking back the pieces in my mind, I work it out. "Yeah, yeah she did."

"I think that's what the flashlights are for. I have this theory. Well, not so much a theory, but something that is plausible. What if, everytime a tribute dies, the lights grow dimmer and dimmer? Then, eventually, we'll need to rely on the flashlights to be able to see anything. I think they're trying to pull us out of hiding, you know, put us in the open. Like predator and prey. You need the light to be able to see, but it makes you a target. Or you suffer without it and not able to see a thing, but you can sneak up on people and survive longer."

"They're trying to weed us out," I respond quietly, realising that at some point, me and Rye are going to be open targets. "Either that, or there is some _lovely_ trick awaiting us."

Then, it happens so fast, I don't realise until I see her too late. Sorrel, soaking wet, running at Rye with determination.

"Look out!"

Rye spins and steps to the side, just as Sorrel kicks out her foot hard. It misses him, but it doesn't miss me. The steel end of her boot collides with my face, I hear a sickening crunch as blood begins to pour from my nose. Everything starts to go dizzy. It takes a second to quickly get myself back up, and as I do, I almost want to scream. Sorrel, dripping wet like she's appeared from the spring, slashes the air around Rye wildly, each time, Rye barely missing as he gets pushed further and further into a trap.

She slowly starts to corner him against a wall. Rye won't fight back. He's a gentlemen. Back in the Capitol, he told he would never, ever hurt a female, even if his life would be taken. He just couldn't ruin his principles.

I stagger to my feet, attempting to run over to them. Sorrel doesn't notice me and neither does Rye. She swipes again, only this time, it slashes across Rye's stomach, ripping open his shirt and letting a fine, red smile spread across his bare chest. I don't think after that. I pull in as much as I can, running, knife in hand from one of the backpacks. Sorrel raises her scythe one last time as Rye slams against the wall, having been trapped. I can see the fear in his eyes.

The knife raises and comes straight down, landing straight into the back of Sorrel's neck. She gasps and spins around, slashing one last time and catching my chest, before falling to the ground. It takes a moment to get my breathing back, but as I do, Sorrel's cannon goes off. Dead. Rye looks at me, but not with a smile.

But _fear_.

Pain strikes the lower part of my back, and as I tentatively reach around, I can feel the harshness of metal buried into my skin. My legs give way, having lost feeling. As I crumple on the ground, I manage to see Camila running from the tunnel, knifes in hand, before everything goes grey.

* * *

**Save Us by Cartel.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Diamond Lacette, District One.**

**Branton Callahan, District Twelve.**

**Sorrel Springfield, District Eleven.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**

**If you want, vote for your own tribute, it's allowed. Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not.**

* * *

**This is getting harder... I know, if your tribute died, I'm sorry. There is only seven more tributes remaining. Voting is still important, however. From voting and my preference, I will choose my final three tributes. Then, I shall write three separate endings which each tribute winning. From there, I will make my decision.**

**For now, there are four more chapters, including the final battle.**


	15. To Build A Home

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top,_  
_I climbed the tree to see the world._  
_When the gusts came around to blow me down._  
_I held on as tightly as you held onto me,_  
_I held on as tightly as you held onto me._

_Cause, I built a home,_  
_For you,_  
_For me._

_Until it disappeared._  
_From me,_  
_From you.  
_

* * *

**Battery Rosenthal.**

The cry of pain was too much. I stop my walk, listening around, waiting for the cannon. But nothing comes. My heart hammers against my chest, trying to break free. My head is swimming, I feel sick, I just want to cry. I've had _enough_. If the Gamemakers wanted to break me, then they succeed. They won, like they always do. I switch the knife in my shaking hand, wondering what could happen. I haven't seen no Mutts yet. There's been no feast. At this point, anything is possible.

I snap my head around, noticing the cave growling. Like an animal, trapped in a cage, being poked with a stick. My feet pound against the stone as the cave begins to close up, rocks falling from the ceiling, closing in. My heart hammers more and more. Sweat beads on my forehead and all I think about is that I'm going to die like this. No-one will get to kill me because there will be no me. The rocks would squish _anything_ into nothingness.

At the last second, I make a leap, landing face first into the stone, skin being scraped by the rough texture.

Tears prick my eyes as I squeeze them shut, hearing the final boulder fall into place. Smaller. They're closing us up.

Just like the reaping, where they pushed me into enclosures with other girls my age, they're doing it again. Enclosing us together, for their entertainment. They want their final fight.

There's only seven of us left. Me, Nico, Camila, Alex, Ryder, Rye and Everest. For some reason, I laugh dryly, the noise echoing against the rock. I forgot what a real laugh sounds like. They never expected _this_. Me, a _hopeless_ girl from Three. A little guy from Eight. Two boys from the lower, poorer districts and a girl from Six who definitely doesn't fit the right image. Only Camila and Nico do. Yet, technically, they're outnumbered. The Gamemakers have really messed up this year. If they want their blood fight, their screams and warrior calls, they need to get Nico and Camila together, not the rest of us.

I hear the sound of shuffling against the ground as I get up, brushing down my clothes. The dim light ahead casts an ominous shadow on the knife, still stained with Troy's blood. I made a kill. I actually took a life, like a simple Career. I want to survive, but I didn't want them to take away me. _Me_. The girl from Three who banishes her stereotype. The girl who, against all odds, has lasted this far. The girl who is a _survivor_.

Moving forward, I hear the noise, but it seems distant enough. Probably not as close as I expected. I turn the tunnel, before hitting a dead end. I turn the other way, only to find another blocked passageway. The only bit now for me to enter is the slope, going downwards, following the water. The water that you might think is a blessing, but is probably a curse.

But I have no choice. My heart sinks as I slid down the mud slide, catching my foot on the bottom and sprawling out across the floor, knife clenched in my hand. As I get up, though, I can't stop the shaking. My whole body is vibrating with fear. I'm not made for this. I'm not made for this. This isn't for me. I can't stop the fear bubbling inside me, eating away at my body. I'm going to die. Sooner or later, I will _die_.

The scream of pain snaps me back though, making my mind swim with exhaustion. As I follow down the dark tunnel, I see the sparkle of crystals against the ceiling, showering down. It's quite beautiful, the contrast of the pain on the ground. It's Everest, doubled over, clutching the wound in his back.

Then I see Camila running out, Rye looking petrified.

"You're _dead_," Camila shouts, throwing a knife. Rye dodges at the last minute, falling to the floor, as the knife flies to a hole and then disappears, splashing into what I guess is a spring. "You are _nothing_."

Rye doesn't have the time to get up. Camila is there, shoving her boot hard into his stomach. He groans, flying to the side, as she grabs another knife. She stabs downwards, but again, Rye's size is good. He rolls away, getting to his feet. As Camila throws the knife, Rye moves but not as quick. It catches his arm, slicing it along the side, a river of blood pouring down.

My eyes find Everest, laid flat on his back, breathing thickly.

"You haven't got a _chance_, Nine," Camila hisses like a snake. "Ten is as good as dead. Not going to feel a thing from the waist down. Whereas you, you should die more theatrical, correct? Made I should blind you. Let you walk around until someone finds you and kills you."

Rye blinks a few times, tears streaming his face as he steps back, clutching his arm. "H-H-He isn't g-going to d-die..."

"Oh yes he _is_," Camila grins wickedly. "And so are you. But the important thing is, you'll be together."

Rye shakes his head, squeezing his eyes. I can see the outline of his jaw clenched. He looks like he's arguing with himself. He groans, head slightly shaking as Camila draws another knife from her outfit.

"Say goodnight, darling."

The knife leaves her hand, whizzing in the air, cutting it. But Rye seems to gain control of whatever happened, managing to fall to the floor in time. Camila screams, running forward and booting him again, catching his bad arm. He screams in pain, clutching it, still not fighting back.

"Not going to fight back?"

Rye doesn't answer. His breath is ragged, even I can tell that. My heart lurches. Killed in cold blood.

"Got nothing to say, then?" Camila smirks. "Oh dear, I think the audience wanted some entertainment, though. I think they wanted to hear your screams and pleas for mercy."

Rye whispers something, but I can't hear it. I can see Everest, whose managed to turn his head, eyes locked on Rye, shadowed by Camila. Camila pulls her final knife from her costume, running it along her finger.

"Oh well, guess if you aren't going to say anything," Camila declares. "Not much worth keeping you around."

But as she prepares her throw, I don't think she expected it to happen. Someone else is at one of the tunnels, short, maybe even a boy. Alex or Nico, possibly. My heart doubles over, because that means Rye has no chance or Camila is getting two kills. Instead, though, Ryder steps out.

"I _finally_ found you," Ryder beams, though she looks worse off, with her arm hurt badly and skin nipped with red marks. But she stands there, hatchet in hand, grinning. "You want me, Cammy, come fucking get _me_, you bitch."

Camila snarls, looking back at Rye, before running off towards Ryder, throwing her last knife, which Ryder dodges, before disappearing into the tunnel. As Camila runs over, she passes Everest, retrieves her only knife and disappears into the tunnel after Ryder. Rye breaths carefully, before running over to Everest. And for a moment, I don't see two boys who want to kill each other or harm anyone. I see two boys who need each other, more than anything.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

By the time I reach Everest, he's lost a lot of blood. I can't fight back my emotions anymore. Tears stream my face, my vision is blurred and yet, all I see is him, sadly smiling at me. I was so close. I was just there... Almost dead. Camila could have killed me, just like that, if Ryder didn't show up. The pain from my arm washes over me, causing me to hiss. I almost lost it, too. _He_ almost escaped. _He_ was so close... I could have killed her. Or at least died trying.

_That's because you don't deserve me, Rye, you're too weak._

I squeeze my eyes shut, taking Everest's hand. It's cold like ice. So cold... So numb. My head is throbbing, stomach swirling, acid spraying my throat. All my emotions are whipping around my body like a hurricane and I just can't control it. I can't handle it.

Then, softly, I feel Everest squeeze on my hand.

I open my eyes, squinting, as if light is stabbing into my eyes. My head hurts. That's _him_. _He's_ coming.

"R-Rye..." Everest breaths.

I scoot closer, ignoring the pain against my knees. "Y-Yeah?"

A tear slides down Everest's face as he smiles again. "I-I'm glad you're okay."

That just breaks me. I can't fight the sob bubbling in my throat. It comes out, like a screech, broken and chipped. Everest squeezes tighter on my hand, but it's still weak. Not the same grip of comfort he used to give me. Instead, it's a grip of holding on. He's fighting it, at the very least.

He looks at me with watery eyes, his orbs glistening like diamonds. "Don't be sad, Rye... It was gonna happen at some point."

"N-No it w-wasn't," I choke. "Y-You w-were going to win..."

Everest laughs hollowly. "_Never_. It was always going to be me dying for you, Rye."

"Why?"

Another hollow laugh. "Because y-you deserve it."

But I don't. That's the thing, I don't deserve to come out of this alive. Other people do. More deserving, normal people deserve to walk away alive, and not one of the many dead. Veena _deserved_ it. Everest _deserves_ it. I don't. The dripping sound of the water takes the awkward silence, alongside the thick, deep breathing of Everest. My eyes follow down to his chest, watching his stomach rise and lower, painfully. I feel a hand get placed on my shoulder, causing me to snap around so fast, I see stars and fall to the floor, hands out.

It's the girl from Three. Battery, I think.

"I can _try_ and help," Battery whispers. "I d-don't know how much. But I can try."

"Why would you do that?" I ask bitterly, without meaning too. "Sorry. But how?"

"I dunno," Battery shrugs. "But there must be something."

_You want me, Rye? Kill her. Kill her and take the gold. I can help, Rye, but you have to let me free. Let me go and I can save us both._

I squeeze my eyes shut as Battery tends to Everest, but I dare not look. It would be too painful. He's going to die and there is _nothing_, not me or Battery, can do to stop it. She killed him. I hear Battery sigh, followed by a grunt of pain from Everest. When I open my eyes, I see his sad, beautiful smile once more, followed by Battery's glistening eyes.

"I-I-"

I place my hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. You should go. Camila can come back at any second."

Battery stands, shaking slightly. "I'm _so_ sorry."

I force a smile, as Battery staggers off into another tunnel, swallowed by the darkness. I look back at Ev, who takes both my hands into his. He forces a smile, but I can tell it's pained. He's dying. My body shakes, but Everest's hold provides some comfort. He pulls me down to him, shaking, but I take control. He slips his hand around my shoulder, as I cuddle down onto his chest. I can hear his heart, thumping weakly.

"Do this for me, R-Rye."

I look up, meeting his eyes. He nods, smiling once more. "G-Go home. G-Go and win."

"I promise," I lie, because really, I'm not good enough. He could do it, but not me. He could take them all out. "I promise."

"T-Tell me about your life," Everest barely whispers, his heart going even slower. "P-Please."

I swallow as much air as possible, allowing a fear tears to escape their confinement. "There's not much to say... I don't have a dad. Just my mom and my two little sisters, Zea and Kasha. My dad... He er, he left us when the twins were 4. I kind of _had_ to grow up as quick as possible. Become the man of the house. He... He used to hit my mom. So when he l-left, I was happy. But then things changed, and... I became like the father. But I couldn't handle it. Then... Then _he_ c-came and _he_ hasn't left."

Then, my heart breaks. His heartbeat is no more than a tap.

When I look up, his eyes are glossed over, dark, but his smile is still there softly. Without thinking, thinking even deciding my options, I lean upwards, planting a soft kiss to his bitter cold cheek, painted a purple blue. His smile increases one last time, before his heart stops. A cannon booms through the arena, followed the shatter of my own heart. Emotions catch up to me, tears furiously leave my eyes.

I break down, clutching his chest, body violently shaking.

Everything hurts. Everything is _numb_.

But that numbness is soon replaced by fire. A burning sensation that rips through my body. I stand up with shaky legs, collecting the bloody knife Everest used to kill Sorrel. I have no-one, anymore. No-one to control _him_. No Veena and no Everest.

_Now it's my time to shine, Rye. Will you let me? Do it. Avenge Everest. Avenge Veena. Kill, Rye, kill. All you have to do is let me go._

"Yes," I whisper to myself, wiping a final tear with my hand, knife secured in my other. "Y-Yes."

I walk off, down the same tunnel Ryder and Camila went down, hearing the whirling noise of the metal teeth collecting Everest. There's nothing I can do anymore. _He's_ right, he _has_ been all along. _He's_ been set free, and now, there's nothing I can do. _He_ won the battle.

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

When the cannon goes off, I can't fight the smirk. _Another_ one down. Six left. It could be anyone, well, I can count it not being Ryder. I watched her walk past me. I don't know whether she knew about the attack I done on her arm or not, but either way, she's alive. Unless she found Camila, then possibly not. But Boy Cut can do it. I'm sure of that. I stop, trying to work out how many days in we are. I have no idea. In a place where there is no natural light, no time, no nothing, it's hard to keep track. Not that long, I don't think.

Maybe a little over a week? Maybe even more. I've given up guessing.

Then, almost like clockwork, the anthem blares. The seal appears on the dark wall, the only sense of light in the whole tunnel. And quickly as it disappears, it's replaced by the boy from Ten, before it vanishes. _Oh_. So someone got hold of him instead. Well then, that's changed a lot of things. Everything, actually. Three girls and three guys, fighting it out for the golden spot of _keeping_ your life.

And on queue, the lights in the tunnel dim a little. I caught on quickly, that the lights still too be getting duller and duller, every time someone died. Before, when there was so many of us, it was noticeable. But now it is. As well as the tunnels breaking down, restricting our choices of movement and pushing us together. Gamemakers have to remember that not all tributes are idiots. That some of us, mainly me, are actually a lot smarter than they think. It's amusing, actually, how people underestimate me a lot. Like Ryder, for instance.

I wonder what she thinks about the little "tattoo" I gave her. Does she think it was me? The Mutts?

My family in Eight will know what it means. They'll _remember_ the sign. They'll know what it means, because hopefully, that was the point. Not to get a message home. But to torment someone. Not all my family, but someone in particular. That dear, sweet, _stupid_ older sister of mine. _Three_ years older, to be exact. One night, when she was sleeping, I took a knife and gave her the little "tattoo" when she was sleeping, just like I did for Ryder.

Next day, mom and dad found her. Said she harmed herself. She denied it, because really, why would she? But the proof was there. Evidence was there. I was there, laughing to myself as they dubbed her _crazy_. Because after that, things changed. Everything she did was watched because it wasn't just the first time. More harm. Graffiti around the house. Broken things. My sister, the crazy girl. And the _whole_ time, she confided in me, said she had no idea what was happening to her.

She never realised it was _me_. _I_ was the one messing with her head.

Because, as I always say, people are stupid and I'm _not_.

But now she'll know. Now she'll tell my family. And why did I do it? Easy question. Seeing Ryder, unconscious like that... She looked like her. Looked like my sister too much. Same eyes, same cheekbones. I never noticed it before until I saw her, in a freaky similar position to Cassidy on that fateful night.

I just couldn't resist.

In my mind, it seemed _poetic_. She had to know at some point, might as well post it out on the big screen, for the whole of Panem to find out.

I keep walking, kicking small rocks at my feet. No weapon, but that's okay. I'd rather have Ryder have the hatchet. That way, the idiot can get herself killed whilst taking someone else out. Plus, it was too big. I turn a corner, surprised to find that it's not blocked off. Then, down a slope.

Followed by another slope, another tunnel and another slope. Only this time, I slip too far. I catch my leg, which stays whilst the rest of my body tumbles forward. I land face first into the stone, mouth open, hearing a crack. I scream, but it's muffled. When I look up, tracing my mouth with my finger, I pull back to find blood, noticing a small, white object on the floor. A tooth. Oh, fucking _perfect_.

Not like the tooth fairy can get it down here. Then, I laugh bitterly, because really, I've given up hiding. I hear a shout, followed by a laugh and eventually, another shout and cheer. My feet quicken in the direction, but when I stop, I poke my head around the corner. Don't want to give my position away _too_ early.

Then, I see Ryder, running.

Each step, she laughs wildly, swinging her hatchet, bare arm and criss-cross on show.

"Can't catch up, _can_ you?" Ryder shouts to no-one.

Well, not no-one. As Ryder stops at the dead end, cursing as she slams her boot into the wall, I see Camila pulling up, devil grin bright.

"Oh _no_, Boy Cut has nowhere to go."

"Oh no," Ryder pouts mockingly. "The whore finally has me pushed up against a wall. Oh, I'm sorry, it should be the other way around. _You're_ normally pushed up against a wall, aren't you Cammy?"

"You have a lot of balls, Six," Camila scoffs wickedly. "Yet, _you're_ still the one backed up against a wall."

Ryder grimaces a little, lifting the hatchet up in a more protective, fighter stance. She takes a step forward, smiling with as much confidence she can muster. Camila does the same, showing off her glistening knife that flickers in the damp, dull light.

Then, Ryder's smile turns dark. "Bring it on, _bitch_."

* * *

**To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Everest Sawyer, District Ten.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

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**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**

**If you want, vote for your own tribute, it's allowed. Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not.**

* * *

**I have never actually asked you to listen to the song that each chapter is after. But for once, this one time, I suggest you do listen to this song. It's beautiful, and really, it made Everest's death that much more sad to me. Especially if you type in RainyMood into another tab, put it on and listen to both songs.**

**Beautiful. Purely beautiful.**

**Anywho, down to my final six! Time to start cheering for your favourites! Mutts? Yes, there will be mutts. Be prepared. ;)**

**And yes, chapters will more than likely becoming a little shorter. That's because there are less POV's to do, now. But hopefully, this is enough.**


	16. Born To Die

_Feet don't fail me now,_  
_Take me to the finish line._

_All my heart, it breaks every step that I take,_  
_But I'm hoping that the gates,_  
_They'll tell me that you're mine._

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

It doesn't take long for Camila's dark smile to reappear. She thinks she has me. Here I am, pinned up against a wall, inches from her, an expert knife thrower, with my simple hatchet and scratched up arm. In her twisted mind, she _thinks_ she has this won. But no-one, and I mean no-one, has one over Ryder Corvair. If I die now, well, then at least I went out the best way possible. Fighting against my rival.

The girl from Two.

"Scared, are we?" Camila sneers. "You should be, after all. I mean, your death _is_ near."

"Oh really, is that so?" I smirk. "Because you seem _awfully_ confident for someone who couldn't even take down the boy from Nine. There you were, throwing your knives and stabbing the ground, _never_ hitting the target. A fourteen year old boy. I mean, I can practically feel the screams from Two, calling for your blood. Because you _failed_."

"I never _failed_," Camila reassures herself. "A weak little boy, or you, a weak but arrogant semi-boy. Odds kinda work themselves out."

She takes a step closer, knife still glistening in the dull lighting. It's getting darker. Incredibly darker. Sooner or later, everything will be black. Everything. I take another step closer, pushing Camila to her limits. I need her to think I'm not backing down. If I can't kill her, then her confidence will. They always said curiosity kills the cat, so, I want to know whether she's curious enough to see what I have in a fight.

But Camila must notice.

"You think you have this," Camila laughs. "You actually think you have this, don't you? You think you can actually kill me? Really? Just a tad eager, Six."

"I call it confidence," I reply with a short laugh. "Because I tell you what you bitch, I have the fucking balls to save myself, not kill because I'm nothing more than an animal."

That catches Camila, though. Something inside her must stir, because one minute she's standing there, the next minute she's lunging forward with her knife. I manage to duck out the way, but the blade slices across my bare shoulder, ripping the skin. I hiss in pain, but manage to jerk my knee upwards, but it hits thin air. Instead, I feel another slice around my shoulder, a new wave of pain taking over.

"You're _nothing_," Camila hisses, slamming her fist into my stomach, knocking me into the wall. "Absolutely nothing."

Another punch. I hear the clang as I lose my hatchet, disappearing to the floor. Then, it's followed by another punch. Stars begin to pepper my eyes, clouding everything. Another punch, another wave of pain. Fucking _bitch_. I look up, seeing a blurred version of Camila, dark smile in tact.

"See, what did I say," Camila laughs. "I told you that _no_ matter what you do, I will always be better."

But like her, that stirs something inside of me. Rage. Anger. Annoyance. Fear. Determination.

"I don't think so." I mutter.

Camila doesn't hear it. She doesn't need to, really. Because with that, I fly off the wall, surprised to be able to see well enough. I ball a fist, sending it out and getting Camila in the stomach. Off-guard. She was too busy giving it the lip. But she's quick to recover. She lunges forward, grabbing enough of my hair to twist me downwards, slamming me into the ground on my front. Dust sneaks into my lungs. It becomes harder to breathe.

Yet, the fire remains.

Camila is quick to drive her knee as she jumps downwards, bone connecting with my back. I scream out, as I feel Camila grabbing more of my hair, pulling my face up to hers.

"Say goodbye, Six."

With my hair tangled in her hands, she slams forward as I squeeze my eyes shut, face slamming into the dirt hard. Wave quickly takes over, before air rushes the wound. But Camila doesn't stop. Another slam forward, another wave and another rush of cool air. I can feel my head swimming. I can feel the blood building behind my eyes, filling my ears. Then, she makes a mistake. She stops, breathing ragged, preparing to finally strike me with her knife.

Yet somehow, magically, I find enough strength to be able to knock her off my body. She doesn't go far, maybe just to my side, but it's advantage.

And that's all I need.

I'm on my feet in seconds, staggering, barely balanced. Yet I manage to kick my leg out quick enough to hit Camila, knocking her into the wall. The minute she makes contact, it seems she's flying forward, shoving me hard with both hands. It's only then do I realise that she doesn't have her knife. It fell.

I grab her wrist, pained, but I manage it. I give it a twist, receiving a howl in response. But she jerks her head forward, colliding with mine. Stars fill my vision again, but in my daze, I still manage to twist her wrist just a little more. Another howl. Only this time, it's followed by a kick to the shin. I buckle, crumpling to the floor, loosing my grip as she kicks me again, this time, the top of her boot smacking into my throat.

It tightens. I can't breathe. The bitch took the last thing I have left away from me.

She kicks again, but I can tell she's almost had it. Her breath... It's pained. More pained. As if, sooner or later, she'll collapse from the pressure. Once again, I take advantage, swiping my hand out at her ankles. My knuckles slam into the side of her ankle, catching her by surprise and knocking her to the ground. She lays there, blinking, looking at me with such hatred, I would _laugh_ if I could spare the breath.

Then, my eyes find the knife and hatchet, centimetres from each other, together, mocking us.

Now, the fight has really begun. Who will kill _who_?

* * *

**Camila Norvic.**

I underestimated her. But she's underestimated me too. I follow her eyes, noticing the weapons. She's realised that only one is going to be alive in a few moments. The poor girl... She still hasn't realised that I can still kill her first before she kills me.

What she hasn't realised, though, is I still have one. One I managed to not waste on that pathetic excuse of a human from Nine. The tension builds, neither of us moving. Any second now. Any second and suddenly, she'll be dead. All she has to do is make one more move. A little inch of her finger and my knife will be digging into her throat.

And then, hell breaks loose.

Six gets to her feet, but she's sluggish. All those blows to the head must have seriously wounded her. My heart is hammering, aching painfully. But that doesn't deter me. I was _made _for these moments. I'm on my feet quicker than I thought, and despite my head swimming, I slam my foot into Six's ankle. She grunts, falling to the floor once again, but, she scrambles forward, clawing at the dirt. No use.

I bring my foot up, slamming it down on her hand. I hear a faint crunch. Definitely not broken, but damaged. She won't be able to use that hand with much effect. She cries out in pain as I kick her stomach with my foot, knocking her over. She blinks a few time, fire in her eyes, but it's becoming more diluted, going out.

Another swift kick to her stomach gains another satisfying moan.

"And then, she goes down," I breath, tired. "I admit, you're kinda good, Six."

She laughs weakly. "Fuck you."

"Now now, no need to be a little _bitch_," I smirk. "Might make your death more painful."

"Better than looking at your _face_."

This time, it's my turn to laugh. "How funny."

I stagger over to the hatchet and knife. You know, never thought about using a hatchet before. Didn't even know if it would be good enough. I flip the weapon in my hand, ignoring the pounding in my chest. It hurts. Fucking heart condition. The silver shines against the faint, dusty light. It's getting darker, which doesn't help my heart. Never been that great with the darkness. Once she's dead... That's another light tone down. More dark.

Grabbing the knife, I walk back to Six, trying my hardest to focus on my walking. Rocks here and there are turned over, from the fight. Must have been a good show for the lovely audience.

I slide the knife into my costume, deciding that the hatchet would be the best bet. How poetic would it be if she died by the weapon she was using? Think that would stir up some sponsors, I reckon. Six lays there, breathing heavily, looking more sedated and calm than I've ever seen the little bitch.

"Ready to _die_, Six?" I taunt her.

She glares, coughing as dust begins to flutter through the air. "As I said, get it _over_ with, sick and tired of hearing your voice."

I bend over, taking the hatchet and smiling at her. She bites down on her lip, preparing herself. But as I raise it, I'm caught by surprise. The tunnel begins to shake, like an earthquake, as the lights begin to flicker madly. I look up, panicked. They can't take away the light. They can't... I can't handle it. And in my moment of panic, she strikes. I thought she was down for the count, but turns out, Six is as good of an actress as she is a bitch.

She manages punch my hand, knocking the hatchet to the floor. It takes a split second to react. But I'm slow for some reason. Six bounces up onto her knees, striking forward with her palms to push me over. I stumble, fall, before feeling her on my chest, digging her knees in. She's younger and smaller, though. I'm made for this, remember? I push her off easily, grunting from the pressure on my heart. She falls, scrambling forward and grabbing her hatchet, just as I grab a knife.

We kneel there, facing each other, breathing hard and holding our weapons. It's only then do I realise that the shaking around us has stopped...

But the noise is still there.

A black cloud moves at the end of the tunnel, and quickly, I know that. Those things... Those bats. Then, as if they heard me, they screech, swarming forward. Six is quick to get on her stomach, protecting her head as they lower, clawing at her. Me, on the other hand, was _punished _if I done something like that. I have to fight, no matter what. I swipe my knife rapidly in the air, catching a bat or two, slicing. I'm blinded, though. The things seem to cover up every inch of visible light left, bringing the darkness themselves.

They hiss, screech, beady red eyes staring me down, burning through even though I can't see them.

But I continue to swipe wildly. I will not go down to animals.

Then, with my eyes closed, I don't realise they're gone until the noise stops. As I open my eyes, I see Six, launching at me. I fall, pain taking control of every part of me. Eating away at my body. Six towers over me, blood splattered over her face. My hand travels down my body, feeling the slice across my stomach. It's deep, jagged, painful. With shaking hands, I dip my hand into my costume.

"You _bitch_." Six sneers.

I wrap my fingers around the knife.

"You _deserve_ to die. You deserve to burn in _hell_ for willingly doing this to kids," Six spits. "_You_ don't deserve a life."

Swiftly, I pull the knife out and with a flick of my wrist, I throw it. It spins, stabbing straight into Six's shoulder blade. She screams and as I smile, she drives the hatchet down onto my throat. I feel the gurgle of blood, the pounding in my head, and then, it all goes quiet except for one voice.

"Fucking _bitch_!"

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

As soon as the cannon sounds, I smile. Five left. Things are starting to get interesting. The lights tone down just a little more, barely illuminating anything anymore. Quite clever, actually, an arena that exposes the most obvious of fears. Darkness. Small spaces. Fear of the unknown, fear of what could be creeping around the corner, ready to strike.

I drop my sword to the floor, idly tearing it across the ground when the trumpets blare, almost scaring me half to death. Something that's quite stupid and painless in a place like this. And if on cue, an unknown voice booms through the arena, a tint of giddiness in his voice.

_"Well done to the remaining tributes of the 40th Hunger Games! For your participation, we are holding a feast! Oh, but not any feast. A feast that could be the changing factor in your life. Each of you needs something desperately, and each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number by the underground spring. Think about it, my dear tributes, and enjoy the rest of the games!"_

The voice disappears, words hanging in the air with the faint sound of static.

I swing my impressive sword up, catching it with my other hand, fine jewels bedazzled. Definitely the best thing I've ever seen. Clearly I'm a favourite back in the Capitol.

Oh. So it's time for the feast, I see. About time. I can't win this until the other four are dead, eaten by the cold teeth, swallowed into the ceiling and shipped back to their pathetic districts. It's amazing, actually, have much I've changed since entering this. And god, how much I'm going to be hated by most of One for killing their precious Victor's daughter, Diamond. Not to mention the backlash from Savoy, our greatest Victor to date...

Until me.

Then, I hear the faint footsteps, just in front of me. I'm at an advantage, hidden by the shadows. Then, Three steps out, creeping. But I finally realise that actually, she's limping. Her foot looks a little damaged. Not so much she can't walk at all, but maybe just a tender. Like a wounded animal, walking around, trying to escape the predator, lurking for her blood. She must be trying to get back to the spring.

She stops, taking a deep breath, but it's ragged. I can see the glisten of tears rolling down her face. The poor, poor girl.

Time to put her out of her misery.

I step out, flashing my sword. It doesn't take long, though, for her to notice me. But it's far too late, sweetheart. I pull back my sword, swinging it across in one final, tidy swipe. She screams, cries bouncing on the walls, as the blade carves her arm, spraying the blood. She falls, tears streaming her face, deluded mind clearly not grasping the fact that her life is over. She looks up at me, pleading silently.

"So sorry. But hey, can't _all_ be winners, right?"

"P-P-Please..." Three breathes. "D-Don't."

"I'll tell my children about you," I smirk. "The girl who _begged_ for her life pathetically."

I raise the sword high, directing over her body. Then, I plunge it forward, capturing her heart. Straightaway, the cannon follows, signalling Three's death. Four left. I wait around, knowing that roughly, night must be coming for the feast to be in the morning. The feast so late, it's sad.

The seal lights the wall, and for a moment, I can't fight the happiness bubbling inside. Camila shines brightly, before disappearing, replaced by Three.

So it's me, Eight, Nine and Six. Weaker districts, untrained kids, against me. Couldn't have asked for a better, cleaner ending. Innocent, naïve, stupid little children, basically lining up to drop themselves onto my sword. Just like everyone else. I wipe the sword on my costume, walking down the direction I saw Three come from. She _clearly_ was down there, if only she knew it. After all, not that many tunnels actually left.

Walking down the tunnel, I follow the dripping until surprisingly, it stops.

That's when I notice the red, small eyes staring at me. Just a pair. Mutts, clearly. I stop, preparing myself for battle with... With whatever it is.

Then, almost like their neon, teeth appear. Two at the top, two at the bottom. It snarls, a heavy sound bellowing from its stomach. Slowly, it creeps out, white whiskers razor sharp. It bares its teeth at me again, snarling once more, sounding more animalistic. One pair of eyes are joined by a second pair, then another, followed by another and another and another... Suddenly, dozens of red eyes, white teeth and little bodies are staring me down, angry, fire in their eyes.

All the lights begin to seem a lot brighter as they move forward, like a machine.

It takes not even a second to push the pieces together.

_Rats_.

But the minute I think it, they start to move faster, scuttling across the floor towards me in a mass of damp, blood matted fur. The lights begin to flicker, until suddenly, _everything_ dies. Everything, all around, goes dark. All the lights die and straightaway, the little flashlight from my belt shines brightly, providing the only light. So that's why they told me about it. Because sooner or later, they were going to take away _all_ light and leave me living on this.

Then, through the minimal amount of light in front of me, making a pool across the floor, I see the rats dart forward, ready to attack.

But I'm ready, as well, and they've met no-one like _me_.

* * *

**Born To Die by Lana Del Rey.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Camila Norvic, District Two.**

**Battery Rosenthal, District Three.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**VOTING IS REQUIRED ON EVERY CHAPTER.**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**I should also point out, you can't vote for a tribute that is dead. It won't help them, well, because they're dead..**

**If you want, vote for your own tribute, it's allowed. Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not.**

* * *

**So like, wow, I'm down to my final four! This is exciting stuff. So, I have everything ready and only two more chapters to go! If you could, could you just tell me who you would like to see in the final three battle, as well as any thoughts on my lights idea. It's been building, ready to go, but now, it's on.**

**From now on, everything is in darkness. And they only have their little flashlights to survive on! And of course, check out Child's Play, I'm focusing on that next. As well as starting up my next SYOT, so keep an eye out, prepare to submit if you wanna!**

**IMPORTANT; Please, go check this YouTube video, created by the lovely _BrightLittleOranges _on the tributes in this SYOT! So it won't let me post the link, no matter what... But it's on my profile! Go there, copy, paste and watch! I think it's brilliant. :)**


	17. No Light, No Light

_No light, no light,  
In your bright blue eyes,  
I never knew daylight could be so violent._

_A revelation in the light of day,  
You can't choose what stays and what fades away._

_And I'd do anything to make you stay,_  
_No light, no light,_  
_Tell me what you want me to say._

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

They swarm around me, ready to attack. But I'm on stance, ready to fight. I've never fought against a Mutt or an animal before. Always people and trainers and now, pathetic little children in over their heads. I doubt I'll be any good, yet, at the same time, I need to be brilliant to win.

The first rat jumps, legs surprisingly strong. It leaps through the air, level with my head, disappearing into the darkness, before I swing the sword upwards, silver carving through blood matted fur. I hear a shriek, blood squirting down, before it lands on the floor with a thump. Pretty good, really. But then, the next one attacks. Followed by another and another. I swing my sword, whistling through the air as it sometimes strikes a body, sometimes hitting the rock wall of the tunnels.

I hear a rumble at my feet, before suddenly, a sharp shooting pain tunnels up my leg. Pain. I fight back the howl, stabbing the sword downwards and hearing a squish in response. No light, so I have no idea where I got it on it's body.

But I got it. I got it _good_.

The darkness doesn't help. All I can see is the red beady eyes, almost glowing in the dark, the small pool of light beaming against the floor not being enough.

They'll kill me. Or at least maul me into a slab of meat, waiting for death to take me.

And for the first time in my life, the first I've ever done something like this... I run. Jaws seize around my ankle before I take my first step, but it doesn't matter. I stab the ground against, smiling to myself when I feel the tip of the sword suddenly heavy, having sliced into something of the rat.

Then, my legs power me away.

But the noise follows. The rats follow.

I hear their small feet, pattering against the ground in a frenzy, chasing after me. They won't stop until I'm eaten.

Yet once again, the darkness doesn't help. I can't see the corners of the tunnel, the rocks spewed haphazardly until I'm right on top of them. And then, it's a struggle to keep the flow in my feet. To keep moving, when I'm falling and cutting into the rock. The noise doesn't stop, however, and neither does the feet slamming against the ground.

In a final ditch effort, I spin and slice my sword through the air. For once, I know what I've hit. The light casts a small stream of light onto the rat that leapt, my sword slicing through it's neck in mid-air like knife through butter. The head lands with a thud, but I don't stop to see if the others have got the message. That against all odds, against the fact that I'm terrible in fighting animals, I managed to succeed in fighting them off.

And once again, the surprising fear inside me rises.

They get faster.

_Faster_.

I'm running, but I trip. I slam against the ground, a heavy body pressed across my back in the black. It weighs me down. I hear the clang as my sword falls into the shadows up ahead, leaving me without a weapon. Unarmed.

A wave of pain shoots through me once more, starting from my ankle.

Then a pain from my arm. My leg. Little nibbles and bites, each causing damage to my body. Each giving me pain. Fuck it. I'm going to die by rats. Rats of all the fucking creatures that could have killed me. Soon enough, I feel the weight of the rats on my body, definitely more than one. But I can't see nothing. My chest, my flashlight, are both pressed against the stony floor.

If I could get away...

Surprisingly, as I feel a new sense of pain at my neck and the warmth of my blood dribbling down my throat, I find enough strength to push myself upwards.

And despite the pain, I run.

Run for my life, no matter how pathetically it will sound. I'm guaranteed Victor. And if there was a small chance, so small you'd need a microscope, then I want to die at the hands of a tribute, not some pesky, annoying creation the Capitol have clearly not worked on very well.

My co-ordination is off, but as I slam into another wall, I slip and fall down a slope. The noise stops. My heart thuds. From the end of the tunnel, I see a glimmer of light. Not from my flashlight, but from something more clearer, brighter and blue. Cameras are probably all swarming on me, waiting for the fateful moment I enter that room. Where the so-called spring is. Where my feast awaits me, and more importantly, my final kills.

Six, Eight and Nine. One girl, two boys.

Untrained. Unarmed, hopefully. Ready to die.

I make the last ditch effort to will my body forward. My steps turn into a sprint and somehow, I've managed to collect my fallen sword. I push my feet through the last part of the tunnel, watery light showering down. The spring room. Crystals dangling from the rocky, large, dome-shaped ceiling extending upwards, a pool of water, blue as the sky.

And of course, my heart skips a beat when I see the feast table, golden, projecting the light. Five bags sit on the table, varying in size and colour, each numbered. One, Three, Six, Eight and Nine. Naturally, _mine_ is the largest. But what possibly would they assume I really _need_?

I slowly walk across the area, reaching the table and scooping up my bag, followed by Three's. I did kill her, after all. So technically, that means I get to claim her bag. No need to be cautious. I doubt any little children could possibly take me on. I can see it now. The flashes of cameras, the declaration back in One, the anger on Savoy's face for murdering his daughter. But after all, that is the Hunger Games.

Kids killing each other to be spared.

I hear small footsteps, and on instinct, I turn around. Eight. He stands there awkwardly, eyes wide and glassy.

"Well _hello_ there," I smile. "I'm glad you came back, Alex. After all, stealing our bags wasn't a _nice_ thing to do now, was it?"

* * *

**Alex Applique.**

Surprisingly, it took a while for Ryder to leave Camila's body alone. After she delivered that final strike, she kept kicking, kicking, kicking the dead girl. As if all her anger had forced her to do it. Soon enough, teeth came down, basically chasing Ryder away from unleashing more hell on Camila's cold body.

From there, I just ran after hearing the voice telling me about my feast. Just in time to see Nico arrive, looking tired, collecting two bags.

And stupidly, I walked out. _Shit_.

"Well _hello_ there, I'm glad you came back, Alex. After all, stealing our bags wasn't a _nice_ thing to do now, was it?"

Nico stands in front of me, scary, towering down like I was nothing more than a child on a street, looking at a large building. Except this building thinks he has a brain. And with that, a lot of ego that could make his so-called terror.

I step back a little.

"I guess it is good to see you, Nico," I make a wry smile. "But gotta dash."

I know I'm not the best runner. But surprisingly, I don't want to run. I want to insult him. Toy with him. A bit like Troy did with Battery. I want to make a fool out of Nico before he dies. Am I going to kill him? Possibly. I've made two kills so far, neither planned, both successful and both completed without a hitch.

"You wouldn't run from me now, would _you_ Alex? I thought we were friends."

I step a little more back, closer to the table. "We are friends, Nico. But not _all_ friends are trustworthy."

Nico scoffs, swinging the sword down to his side. "I suppose I should let you just take your backpack and run. Let something or _someone_ else kill you."

"But that wouldn't be like you, Nico."

"No, it _wouldn't_," Nico steps forward, in sync with my step back. "But the arena has changed everyone. Including me, little Alex. Who would have thought you'd be such an evil little bastard? Not me. I doubted you. And as I said, people change in here. I could have changed, for all you know."

I pause, staring at Nico curiously, before he steps forward again. One swoop. One swoop and I could have that backpack. But I can't outrun Nico. He's too fast and as much as I'd hate to admit it, I'm too weak. It spells disaster. Nico is toying with me. Calling me out, making me hopeful, and then, slash. I'll be without a head or arm or a nice gash across my stomach.

"I'm not an idiot."

"_Never_ would dream of you as one," Nico smirks. "But now that you mentioned it..."

He swings his sword quickly, and somehow, I manage to jump to the floor in time to just hear the slight whizz of metal carving air above my head. I scramble forward, preparing to run or hide or something. I push across the ground, just as Nico jumps back and stabs the stone just where I was.

I pop up on the other side of my table, snatching both my bag and Six's. She doesn't need it. Those wounds of hers from Camila will surely kill her. She'll bleed out, pass out and die. Nice and quickly.

Ignoring the faint noise of scurrying, I try my best to run forward, but Nico is quick, like I said.

He shoots his foot out, and because of the height difference, it catches me in my hip. I hear a crunch, a wave of pain as I fly to the floor almost effortlessly. The two bags scatter, leaving only Nine's on the table. Little Rye.

"I take back my earlier statement," Nico declares, towering over me. "You _are_ indeed an idiot. Thinking you could escape from me, of all people. Clueless little boy."

The scurrying is soon joined by a faint sound of splashing.

I try to move, but I feel numbness. My bones are brittle, they break easily. Catching my hip was a bad thing. A really, really bad thing.

"You _fucker_!" I scream, before breaking into a sob.

Nico only sniggers, tracing the tip of his sword only my leg. I can feel my blood pulsating against the silver, causing the dainty but powerful tip to rise and fall in a mocking, slow fashion. He stops around my knee, before painstakingly driving the sword into my knee, inch by inch, breaking skin and veins. I scream out from the pain, drowning out the noise in my head.

"This is the way Diamond died, you know," Nico brags. "I tortured her the _same_ way I'm going to torture you. They want a good show and _I'll_ be the one to give it, because really, _I'm_ the one that deserves to be the winner!"

I try to speak out, but I can't. It hurts. It hurts so much. I'm clever. I'm suppose to be better than all the idiot children in these Games. Me! I was suppose to be crowned victorious! Not him. Not vain, arrogant, perfect Nico. Not little butch, scrawny, ugly Ryder. Not stupid, sugary sweet and dumb as a post Rye! _Me_!

He pulls the sword out harshly, smiling as he bends over, putting his arms underneath my body. I'm too weak to even fight back or protest. Nico walks over to the spring, the muddy and rocky hill down to the water in view, crystal blue waves lapping gently at the beach. And then, I feel weightless as Nico throws me down.

I slam against the stone hard, hearing another crunch, followed by numbness in my leg. I roll, taking a face full of dirt, muffling my scream as I hear another crunch, followed by the numbness in my other leg. I land, tired, too weak to even cry.

Without feeling my legs. Both broken, twisted at impossible angles.

The scurrying becomes louder. The splashing does. I manage to crane my neck to the water, seeing the waves rise, turning a funny, dark brown colour as a body rises. Beady red eyes. More waves breaking, more brown bodies surfacing from the watery spring.

The crawl out, heading towards, gnashing their teeth together.

One clamps onto my arm.

The next onto my leg, though I don't feel it. And quickly, I can feel my body becoming light as they swarm me, biting, gnashing hard and taking away chunks of flesh.

A rat approaches my face, opening it's mouth and baring snarling teeth. It chomps down hard, and in the distance, my cannon booms. I _hate_ them all.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

When I see the little boy from Eight being thrown down to the spring, it takes everything to not scream. Nico just stands there, proud, watching as the sounds of screaming and snarling, chomping and splashing fills the air. He swings his sword around, before moving back to the table, taking the last remaining bag. My bag. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pounding in my head takes over, controlling me, like he always does.

_You can kill him, Rye. You can do it. You promised to avenge them. A Career killed Veena. A Career killed Everest. Punish him. Punish him for them, Rye._

Without thinking, I begin to walk out, knife tucked into my costume for safe keeping.

Soon enough, as Nico looks smugly through the bags, I watch the metal teeth glide down from the rocky ceiling, encasing what is left of little Eight and hovers back up. Gone. Another innocent death at the hands of a monster.

Then he notices me, looking up with an apple from my bag in his mouth.

He takes a bite, spitting the fruit out and letting it roll on the floor.

"Well, well, _well_," Nico sneers. "It's like you all can't _wait_ to jump on my sword. Might as well start a queue, maybe even charge you. Going to be easier than I thought."

The pounding increases. I whimper a little, the pain unbearable, trying to do it without _him_. I promised _him_ he'll come out eventually. I promised _him_ that we would avenge Veena and Everest's deaths. But for now, _he's_ my secret weapon. No-one knows about _him_ except Everest and he's gone.

"I just want to live," I choke out. "I-I-I want my bag."

Nico laughs darkly, throwing the bags to the floor and stretching his arms out. "If you want your bag, just come and get it. Come and take it from me, if you _dare_."

_Do it, Rye. You can handle him._

"No I can't," I say out loud without warning. "I can't take him on."

_But you can. If you wasn't such a weakling and let me out now, I could do it. You promised me, Rye. Stop fighting it. Stop holding back._

Without warning, the pounding stops. The pain stops and almost instantly, I feel the fire inside me, just like I did when Everest died. It's strong. It's _powerful_. My hand guides the knife from it's home, into my hand with a strong grip. And suddenly, I've lost control.

Like an animal, the cage has been left open, the beast unleashed.

I move forward, pulling forth the knife. _He's_ right. _He_ always was, really. I need to do this. I need to avenge my friends. I need to stop holding back. And so I don't.

My feet pound against the stone, running forward, surprisingly fast. Nico doesn't look shocked, though. Instead, he draws his sword and swings it, but I duck. The pain from Camila's beating is still there, but I fight against it. I've never fought against anything. I was going to let Sorrel kill me. Camila was close, too. And I never fought back.

But now, _he's_ won. _He's_ unleashed and _he'll_ do whatever he wants.

I'm up against within seconds, slicing my knife along his leg pretty fast. He responds by kicking me, but it's weaker compared to Camila. I scoop up the bag, ignoring the rumbling noise.

Nico doesn't ignore it. He hisses through his clenched teeth, but he stops, looking around.

And it hits me. The rumbling noise is all too familiar. Too familiar.

_Run, Rye, now!_

I'm on my feet quickly, running for the nearest tunnel. I turn around, just in time to see Nico disappearing down the tunnel I came from. And as the darkness smothers me, I can see the last glimmer of light from the spring room disappear, rocks crashing down. I keep running, hearing the noise of the rocks chasing me. The tunnels are collapsing. The little pool of light helps me down the next tunnel, and the next, but everything is closing up.

Every tunnel is falling apart.

But what's the idea? If every tunnel caved in, where would we go, considering the spring room is the only safe place?

I fall in the darkness, but pick my feet up quick enough to keep moving. Keep moving. Keep moving. Somehow, I find the light at the end of the tunnel literally. I run for it, panting, tears streaming my face. And as the last rock falls into place, I jump, hitting the ground hard and sprawling out on the floor. It's only then I notice the ground is wet, the flashlight still lit. I stagger onto my feet, noticing the rain hammering down, waves rolling along the golden surface of the Cornucopia.

A crackle of thunder booms in the air, causing me to look up, noticing the grey, cloud-filled sky and blue thunderbolts streaking them.

Another boom, and in the darkness, a figure runs out from the fallen tunnel next to me.

Followed by another tunnel caving in, the one a few away, a dark shadow leaping out and landing on the floor, sprawled, similar to me.

And then, I realise, that this is the final battle. It's all about this last fight to the death. Me, Nico and Ryder. Thunder roaring in the sky, rain hammering down, three kids, each with a weapon, ready to murder the other two to be finally allowed to return home. To be allowed their life.

The Hunger Games have _only_ just begun.

* * *

**No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine.**

**I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Alex Applique, District Eight.**

**Sorry to the submitters that lost their tributes, had to be done for the story. I'm sure you understand. If it makes you feel better, this is hard. :( I love these characters so much and I've grown so attached to a lot of them! If they died, it was for a reason and I'm sorry, but this is how the Hunger Games works, after all. I hope you stick with the story and still vote, cause you are allowed to keep voting, encouraging your favourites on.**

**If you don't, I understand.**

* * *

**Last chance to vote!**

**50 Points -**

* * *

**We made it. Final three. One more chapter to go. Two more to die, one to walk away victorious.**

**Who are you rooting for?! Let me know who you want to win, get 2nd and get 3rd!**

**As is obvious, I've started collecting tributes for _Glasshouse_. If you're interested, you may enter, it won't be started until this is finished and _Child's Play_ is in the arena. Rules are over on the story!**

**Next chapter, the remembrance post will be posted on the blog, letting you know all about the 24 tributes in question, where their bodies went, as well as the life of the Victor after they won. If your tribute has died and I so far haven't collected information on family, then let me know! Otherwise, I'll have to skip your tributes' obituary.**


	18. Nothing To Remember

_You told me something,  
That scared me to death,  
Don't take me home,  
I can't face that yet._

_I'm ashamed that I'm barely human,  
And I'm ashamed that,  
I don't have a heart you can break,  
I'm just action,  
__And at other times reaction._

_All I owe, all I owe,_  
_Strides I spend to the finish line._

* * *

**Nico Cashlin.**

I bend over, panting, trying to pull enough energy together as the rain collides with my back. With my hands on my knees, a sword missing, I'm exhausted. All my fight has been taken away slowly and painfully. I look up, squinting my eyes and looking into the darkness, noticing two figures. Rye and Ryder. Nine and Six. The closest is short, but that doesn't help. I've rarely seen Ryder, but I know she's not tall. They're about the same height, maybe Rye's a little shorter.

The Cornucopia stands proudly in the middle, shining as a crackle fills the air.

And suddenly, I can't resist.

"Looks like it's down to us!" I shout out, noticing the figures face my way. "That's right, you've heard it! Us three, the final three, the last ones to _die_!"

I look up, smiling, catching water in my mouth and swallowing, letting the sound of thunder and lightning fill my ears, heightening my body, making me feel... _Wonderful_. This is my moment. The moment I've been waiting for. This is why I trained and why I volunteered.

Why I did put up with Diamond and her arrogance, Troy, Kaden and Camila with their mental problems, Nerine with her whining.

Why I _killed_ the people I did.

I did _all_ of this to become a Victor. I was born for this. I was made for this. And now, in this moment of glory, I won't let anyone take me down. Not some little pesk from Nine, and definitely not some mildly psycho from Six with a death wish. I stare at the figures, everyone just waiting around, waiting for someone to make a move.

"Isn't anyone going to do something?" I call out again mockingly. "Nothing at all?"

The game begins.

With my breath back, I run forward, crunching my boots into the ground. It's only then I realise the flashlight is gone. Well, mine is cracked, but I can't see anything from either of the twits. So clearly something has happened. Both figures notice, but neither react quick enough. I target the one closest to me, charging like a bull and instantly, I collide. They're taken back, and as they hit the ground, I can tell it's a boy. Rye.

"Hello, you little problem," I sneer. "Missing your _boyfriend_?"

He struggles underneath my body, but manages to jerk his knee a little, colliding with my chest. I wince, but bring forth my hand and slap him across the face. He's stunned, and whilst the poor boy is confused, I look over at Ryder, noticing her double over a little. She's clearly the one that killed Camila. But obviously Camila managed to damage her enough to make _my_ victory that much more easier.

I look back, just as a crackle of blue lights the sky. I drive my hand across Rye's cheek again, gaining a cry of pain. But suddenly, pain takes over my body. I look down, barely noticing the crimson stain on my lower abdomen. Then, he effortlessly throws me off of him. I land, hitting dirt, but manage to pick myself up enough to see him running forward, driving the steel side of his boot into the stab wound.

I cry out. Fuck me, that hurt. I stand up, managing to catch Rye by the wrist as he attempts to stab me. I twist his wrist, hearing a small cry of pain and the clang as the dagger drops, before I throw him to the floor. My hand finds the wound, which surprisingly, seems bigger and sharper.

"Thinking you have the _balls_ to finish me off," I scoff weakly. "I was fucking _made_ for this, little boy!"

Rye stays on the ground, before he crawls away, lifting himself up. I bend down to pick the knife up, just as he reaches the other side. Ryder begins to move towards us weakly, and it's only then, do I realise, she has her hatchet. _Sorry_, Seven's hatchet. The metallic shine glimmers, and as quick as she's walking, it turns into a sprint. She dashes forward, albeit a bit of staggering, before she reaches me and swings the weapon down.

I counter with my knife, pretending it's like a smaller sword. A clang of metal spits out, and from my side, I see Rye running forward again, just as Ryder slams down her hatchet once more. I manage to counter it again, but I'm vulnerable, and in that small chance, Rye kicks his foot up, catching my knee. That knocks me enough for Ryder to slide down her hatchet, slashing across my wrist.

But I swing out my fist, smashing it into Rye's face. He falls, as I collapse and Ryder staggers back and falls to her knees, wheezing heavily.

All down for the count.

I crawl along the floor, feeling weak and light. My head is swimming. My heart is thumping, and literally, I can hear the pounding of my blood in my head.

Then, I catch a glimpse of light. The inside of the Cornucopia sparkles, as the rain slows down to a halt, blue sky peering through the dark clouds. The golden horn becomes more visible, and then, I smile weakly. Inside lies a collection of large, stainless steel knives.

The _perfect_ killing weapons.

It's like the Gamemakers want me to win. After all, I _am_ the perfect Victor compared to little fuck-ups like Six and Nine.

* * *

**Ryder Corvair.**

I breathe slowly, looking down but keeping my eyes on both Nico and Rye and completely ignoring the shine from the corner of my eye. It's no doubt the lightning. Nico is the main problem. Rye... He kind of helped me, which is weird, since I've never spoke to the kid and I plan on killing him really soon. Camila done a lot of damage, though. Bruises and cuts on my face, a damaged wrist which is nearly broken, a deep, jagged knife wound in my shoulder that bled for _fucking_ ages.

I look at Rye, whose closest to the wall, seeing him crying. It stirs something inside me. Not quite compassion or guilt, but definitely something minorly positive. Maybe a bit of sadness. Or maybe because Rye, like many of the others, is just another example of what the Capitol. They take a kid, damaged them until they're nothing more than a pawn to their game, before killing them off just for their amusement.

Rye is the perfect example of a broken child.

"Stop crying," I cough before laughing bitterly. "It's not going to look _good_ for the cameras."

He looks up at me. "I'm not."

"_Sure_ _thing._" I raise my eyebrows.

But then, it hits me as I see a strip of light on the ground. My stomach knots, as I look up, noticing the clear sky. I follow the line where Nico is, well, _was_. My heart stops and shaking slightly, I look at the Cornucopia. Nico stands there, smiling despite the patches of red on his suit, a handful of large knives in his hand. Not the same knives that Camila had, where she could throw them with ease. But proper, large, machete-like knives.

"Now the fun _really_ begins," Nico smiles. "Prepare to _die_, you little weaklings."

Nico begins to run forward, pulling out two knives, dropping the bag on the floor and having a weapon in each hand. I look to Rye, who gets up, alert. Guess I'll have to work with him, just so I can murder this arrogant fucker and then him.

He arrives, cutting the air above my head, just as I duck. Instead, a knife leaves his hand and cuts through the air as it comes downward. It catches my leg, but luckily, Rye comes charging forward, knocking Nico to the ground. He loses his knife, just as I pull the other from my leg. I stand up, leg weak, just as Nico manages to knock Rye from him. Really, it'd be easy to kill them both. Stab Rye... But then I'd have to take Nico on on my own and right now, that isn't possible.

He's quick to his feet.

"You don't _honestly_ think you can kill me?" Nico laughs, stamping his foot down on Rye's hand, causing him to squeal in pain. "Well, someone is delusional."

"I don't think I can kill you," I muster up enough strength to snipe back, ready to stance with knife in one hand, hatchet in other. "I just think you _haven't_ got a chance in winning."

Rye is quick to punch his ankle, but that causes Nico to bring his foot up, slamming it down hard until I hear what must be the bones in Rye's wrist and hand snapping.

"Little girl, _please_, you haven't got a chance," Nico grounds his foot more into Rye's hand, gripping his knife deadly. "Even if you _did_ manage to win, you'd be eaten alive. Think you could handle the fame? The attention, the fans, the _glory_ of it all? Because I know I can. I know I'm _ready_ for all this."

"That's because you're a _sick_ bastard who enjoys killing."

Nico shakes his head. "It's never been about the killing. I'm not Troy or Camila or Kaden. No. It's about the _fame_, my sweet, fucked-up child. It's about making a name for myself."

"For murdering helpless children, well done Nico, you've done your parents _proud_."

"They don't care," Nico shrugs the comment away. "They had plans for me and I guess I screwed all that up. But no matter. I'll go back, live on my own, and guess what, I'll be _somebody_ because I worked for it. Now, if you'd so kindly stop talking, I need to kill the little pesk underneath my feet."

I watch, frozen, as Nico brings the knife downwards hard, stabbing Rye in the back. Rye wiggles, before he stops moving completely, dead. Nico steps off, moving forwad towards me, knife poised, ready to attack and kill.

"You know _what_?" I force a smile, ignoring the pain, the darkness that's beginning to smother me. "I think you're just a scared _child_, like the rest of us."

Nico laughs mockingly. "The complete opposite. This is how it is, Ryder. We've been put in here to kill. It's society at its worse, and you know what? The ones who _play_ by the rules, the ones who don't fight back, _they're_ the ones who survive in the end."

"But if you fight, you have a good chance."

With that, I run forward, swinging wildly with both weapons. Maybe I've been a bit rash, but weirdly enough, I don't care. Common sense was _never_ for me. He counters my knife with his, but I swing the hatchet, slicing across his stomach. He jerks his knee out, catching my stomach, knocking me back and making me drop my hatchet.

I don't stop, though. I ball my fist, punching his face. He manages to snap back quickly, slapping me. I fall, gripping the knife harder and driving it into Nico's knee. He cries out, kicking forward and landing the steel cap of his boot into my face, kicking me away.

"Give up _already_!"

I spit a load of blood out. "Not a fucking _chance_!"

"Bring it, little girl."

I'm up on my feet, just as Nico runs forward, kicking again. I avoid it this time, managing to get enough momentum to kick him, catching him behind the knee. He falls, swings around and punches me in the gut. I stagger back, and in the blind moment, he's up on his feet.

His knife soon zips forward, slowly in my mind, and slams into my stomach, just below my heart. I stumble back, holding the weapon, fighting back the ragged breaths. He's got me. I'm fucked. I see his smile, and suddenly, I find myself conflicted in whether to smile, laugh or literally scream murder.

He rises, holding the bloody hatchet, before swinging it up hard. I watch as Nico's eyes go wide, dark and then empty. He falls, hatchet connected to the back of his skull, showing off Rye, weak, anger clear in his face, but overall, I still see a broken, corrupted, little boy.

I never did hear his cannon, come to think of it. Clever little fucker. Maybe Nico should have paid _more_ attention to his opponents, rather than his appearance and ego.

* * *

**Rye Paramintt.**

"You're a _smart_ fuck," Ryder smiles weakily, still clutching the knife in her stomach. "I never did think you were dead."

I blink a few times, looking down at Nico, hatchet buried deep in his head. I killed him. I killed someone. I actually took someone's life. A cannon booms out, shaking the stones, shaking the ground beneath my feet like a miniature earthquake.

_You done it, Rye, you killed someone. You're not such a coward anymore._

My fist ball up, and instantly, I'm punching my head, the other hand limp, a sickly blue. "Go away, go away, _go away_!"

_You can't get rid of me. I'm part of you. I am you, Rye._

"No you're not," I cry. "You're _not_ me. I'm _not_ you. You're _not_ real. You're _not_ real. _You're not real_."

My hand continues to punch into my head, until I see stars glittering my vision. I manage to see Ryder, in the daze, holding the knife, whimpering slightly, daring not to move it. I look up, tears streaming my face, looking at her properly. Covered in bruises and cuts, deep wounds and injuries.

"I killed someone," I whimper out again. "I actually _killed_ someone."

"Well done, you've _finally_ been corrupted by the Capitol. You are now officially forever screwed, whether you live _or_ die."

I blink again, feeling the warm sensation of my sticky blood, running down my back from the stab wound Nico so kindly gave me. But compared to Ryder, I'm better off. My eyes scan the area, finding the knife Nico dropped, just inches from my feet. I pick it up, gripping the blade end, letting the silver cut into my skin.

Ryder soon crumbles to the floor, knife still buried in deep, smothering her insides. She whimpers again, but manages to keep composed.

I never _did_ deserve to win. I never deserved to survive. Veena died for me. Everest died for me.

Ryder will _not_ die for me.

"What are you doing?" Ryder asks confused. "Oh, fuck sake, at least give me time to try and recover."

I pull the knife, placing it out, silver tip aimed for my heart. I look for Ryder's expression, and when it dawns on her, she looks conflicted. My death means her survival. But I guess she never expected someone to take their life for her. After all, people kept doing it for me. Only time I repay the favour.

_Rye, don't. Just kill her. Bury that knife into her brain and be done with it. Go home! Go home to Zea and Kasha! We can be free!_

"I'll never be free," I whisper. "From you or from life."

But just as I begin to dig the knife in, piercing my skin sharply, the arena shakes. Louder and stronger than what the cannon caused. I look around, noticing the rock walls that cased us in at the start beginning to fall. They tumble, smashing into the rock. A rock falls near me, scaring the life out me, causing the knife to fall. I guess the Gamemakers don't find their final fight as good anymore, now that the real competitor is dead.

Natural instincts take over, and in the end, I run, realising that the Gamemakers just don't want a suicide on their hands. My feet crunch the ground as I near the Cornucopia, and somehow, I put my foot on and begin to climb with one hand, my other completely useless.

From there, the damage is obvious.

The walls aren't the only things collapsing. The floor, the rocks I was just standing on, begin to fall in the tunnels below, caving in.

The arena is crumbling, bit by bit. Out of breath, I look around, seeing the chaos. Tears roll down my face, my head hurts, body hurts... My heart hurts. Then, as the rocks slow down, it dawns on me. Everything from the arena is gone, except a small circle around the Cornucopia.

_Ryder!_

Panic sets in. I didn't hear her cannon, but I don't want to live. She deserves it more than me. She deserves her life, and I don't.

As the dust clears, I see her, back pressed against the golden armor of the Cornucopia, knife even deeper than before, her face an unusual colour of white, lips bright blue. I climb down, shakily, awkwardly, just as the whole arena stops. I stop before her, and her smirk appears, but it isn't the same. They want one of us to die. I'm okay and Ryder isn't.

"I f-fucking hate them... You know that?"

I shake my head. "You can't die. You're suppose to live, not me."

Ryder laughs, but it's broken, ragged. "Fuck it. I-I've given up, anyway. Y-You might as well k-kill me."

I blink. I can't kill again.

_Do it. Just kill her already._

"No," I mumble. "I-I won't do it."

Ryder scoffs weakily. "I-I can't believe I'm g-going to die so a w-wimp like you can win. G-Grow a fucking p-pair and _do_ it."

I bend down, dazed, holding the edge of the knife with my palm. Ryder offers a smile, but I can't tell whether it's pitiful or sarcastic, and slowly, as tears fall, I smile.

"I'm s-sorry, Ryder."

"D-Don't be," Ryder replies. "I-I'd rather d-die than l-let them have me."

And with a final thump, I push the knife in further. Ryder gasps, already near dead, before her eyes begin to lose colour. Darkness is quick to take over, her body white, and finally, the cannon booms, signalling Ryder's death. 23 dead. Me, the one who didn't deserve it, left the winner. As the burst of static fills the air, I quickly pull out Ryder's knife harshly with my good hand, placing it to where my heart is. But I'm shaking. Shaking so badly, I lose my position, just as I push.

The knife stabs straight into my stomach and I cry out in pain, red blood squirting out, soaking my clothing.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Fourtieth Hunger Games, Rye Paramintt! I present you - the tribute of District Nine!_"

I hear the hovercraft, but I don't see it. Blackness takes over my body. I know I didn't hit my heart, I can still hear it beating. It's louder, throbbing in my head. My eyelids slide close as I fall back, hitting the ground, just as the hovercraft gets louder and finally, everything goes _black_.

I'll _never_ be free.

* * *

**Nothing To Remember by Neko Case.**

******I've created an easy to use blog. To find it, go to - ****nowheretohidehungergames . blogspot . co . uk/ ****just take out the spaces and done. Deaths will be notified there.**

******Nico Cashlin, District One.**

******Ryder Corvair, District Six.**

******On the blog, I've created an obituary for all the tributes, called _Remember, Remember_ - It'll tell you about what happened to all the bodies, as well as what happened to my poor baby, Rye.**

* * *

******If you could, a review would make my day, especially if you answer these questions?:**

_-Who you thought would win Nowhere To Hide._

_-Are you happy with who won?_

_-The most shocking death of the entire story._

_-The most jaw dropping moment of the story._

_-Your favourite chapter?_

_-Your favourite line from a character?_

_-Thoughts on the obituary on some characters/your character?_

******This was incredibly hard to get through. I always knew I'd have to pick a winner, but I never expected it to be so sad when I had to kill tributes. I've grown to love all these tributes, including Troy and Camila, even Buzz, though he was a crybaby. These were my babies. I loved them all, 23 died and really, it was heartbreaking. Then to be left with these three... It was horrible.**

******I'm happy with how things turned out. I do wish both Rye and Ryder could have won, but only one could, and whilst both took amazing journeys of discovery and everything, it was going to be hard for Ryder to survive with all the wounds Camila delivered to her. I do love you, Ryder. And Nico. You poor, arrogant, delusional boy.**

******Thank you to all submitters, those who were faithful and those who weren't. You're all brilliant. Thank you!**

******And of course, check out the fanmade video by _BrightLittleOranges_! - ****youtube watch?v=QIyJUTaAU1g&feature=plcp**


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